


Mea Culpa

by DeputyMom62, TigereyesF



Series: Thranduil And Talia [1]
Category: Thranduil - Fandom
Genre: A Bar Called The Shire, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Thranduil, Explicit Thranduil, F/M, Grieving, Guilt, Heartbreak, Passionate Thranduil, Regret, Roxette Music, Secret Organizations, Shame, Sniper - Freeform, Thranduil Is Gorgeous As Always, Thranduil Love, Thranduil Lust, Thranduil Sex, anguish, comments welcome, cover ups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-09-27 21:40:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 65,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17169890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeputyMom62/pseuds/DeputyMom62, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigereyesF/pseuds/TigereyesF
Summary: Thranduil and Bard are detectives and fighting a continuing battle against crime lord Cycnus Azog. A beautiful woman comes into Thranduil's life, taking his mind away from the stresses of his work, and he finds himself falling in love with her. The pressure in the precinct begins to mount, and the cops are at a loss as to why he seems to have an avenging angel covering his back, whose identity is unknown.The mystery shooter makes a fatal error and compromises everything, as Thranduil discovers truths he had no idea even existed. His world implodes around him as everything goes wrong, and he feels like he can't go any lower.But he can, and he does.Heartbroken and devastated beyond his comprehension, he makes another discovery which shocks him to the core. But life isn't ready to ease up on him, as more trouble and angst head his way.Can he find the strength to piece his life back together, and prove his worth to the only person who really counts?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a collaboration between myself and DeputyMom62, and we've worked on this from opposite sides of the world. It's been amazing working together, and hopefully you'll enjoy this as much as we enjoyed writing it.  
> As always, a chapter update daily until completion x

** CHAPTER ONE **

****

Thranduil sighed to himself as he stood in line, waiting for the seemingly endless queue in front of him to dwindle away until it was his turn to go through the check stand. Half an hour spent grocery shopping was way beyond any amount of time he’d willingly have given up on a Friday evening, yet here he was stuck in a mile long procession of shoppers with an aching back and the urge for a strong cup of coffee.

The cashier appeared to be on the prize-for-the-slowest-server shortlist, stopping to talk random nonsense to every single customer she served, regardless of the growing line or the impatient huffing.

He rolled his shoulders, taking a deep breath. Patience was a strong point with him, but on this particular occasion he just wanted to get home and settle for the rest of the evening. A generous helping of lasagne, a bottle of wine, and a good book was on the agenda – if he ever made it out of the store.

The customers before him finally ran out and he found himself at the check stand, his groceries being scanned like there were three hundred and forty six hours in a day instead of only twenty four. Taking out his wallet, he handed his credit card to the cashier, ignoring her mindless chatter as she processed the payment. He slid it back into the wallet and pocketed it, lifting the bag of shopping and heading for the exit.

A welcome blast of warm, summer air hit him as he stepped out onto the concrete, instantly settling him. Nothing was going to impede him on his homeward destination.

Crossing the parking lot, he glanced briefly at the vehicle parked to the left of his; a black SUV with the hood raised. Tossing his grocery sack into the passenger seat, he rounded his vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat. A quick glance to the car beside him showed a female with a deep frown etched on her face as she tried to start the engine.

He looked up at the inside of the roof of his car, cursing silently as he focused on the grey interior. Opening the door again, he got back out and slammed it closed, before rounding the uncooperative machine.

“Are you ok, Miss?” he asked, leaning both hands on the roof and bending down slightly.

Dark blue eyes filled with exasperation met his. “The damned thing won’t start,” the occupant replied, turning the ignition key again. “It was running fine up until I parked here twenty minutes ago. I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with the thing.”

He smiled. “Can I take a look?”

She shrugged. “Sure – if you think you can work miracles,” she replied.

He went back to the front of the car, resting his hands on the frame. Her accent wasn’t local, and he’d have placed a thousand dollar bet that she hailed from the same side of the world that he’d originated from.

The car rocked slightly as she climbed out, appearing at his side and folding her arms.

“I assume your middle name isn’t Jesus,” she quipped.

He grinned, glancing at her. “No, but I _do_ perform miracles _…_ sometimes,” he told her. “There’s your problem. The distributor cap was loose.” A quick tighten and the cap was secure once more. “Give it a try now.”

She lifted one eyebrow, before shaking her head as she went back and climbed in again. Her eyes widened in shock as the engine fired on the first try, and he laughed quietly at the astonishment on her face. He lowered the hood, allowing it to drop the last few inches to click home, and wiped his hands on his thighs.

Dark blue eyes followed the movement as the woman got back out of the car.

“Thankyou so much,” she said, a genuine smile lighting her features. “God knows how long I would’ve sat here cursing and swearing at it if you hadn’t come along.”

He shrugged nonchalantly with a smile of his own. “It was nothing,” he told her. “Anyone with a basic knowledge of cars would’ve spotted it right away.”

She pulled the corner of her mouth in, then started to laugh. “I drive like a demon on acid, but I know practically nothing about the mechanics behind the machine,” she admitted. “So again – thankyou.”

“My pleasure,” he replied.

“You…uh…you don’t happen to know where Greenwood Drive is, by any chance?” she asked, mesmerised by the warm breeze lifting the ends of his impossibly long light blonde hair.

His eyebrows lifted, conveying his surprise.

“I’m going to view an apartment there,” she explained. “I’m new to this area, and don’t know my way around yet.” A sheepish look accompanied her words.

He studied her, taking in the deep blue of her eyes, the thick, dark lashes that surrounded them, and the smooth sweep of black eyeliner that accentuated them. Long, waist-length black hair flowed around her hips. “Yes, I do,” he replied. “It’s over on the Mirkwood Estate, about twenty minutes from here.”

“Can you point me in the right direction?” she asked hopefully.

“I can do better than that,” he answered, turning to climb back into his own car. “I’m headed that way myself. You can follow me.”

Returning his grin, she got back into her own vehicle and waited until he pulled out in front of her.

The day was finishing up quite nicely.

*****

“Oropherion!”

Thranduil looked up and met Bard’s eyes, his partner’s light brown ones reflecting the same _here-we-go_ look as his own held.

“Oakenshield?” he said, standing to his full height as he turned towards the voice.

The smaller man scowled. Standing at six feet, he still felt dwarfed by the blonde’s towering six feet five height. “You haven’t booked in the evidence with Bofur downstairs yet,” he said.

“That’s because I’m not ready to book it in,” Thranduil replied smoothly. “I have paperwork to sign off before I do it.”

“That was supposed to be on my desk first thing this morning,” the man said. “And stop calling me by my surname – you know it pisses me off.”

“Then don’t call me by mine, and I won’t call you by yours, Thorin,” he retorted. “The paperwork will be with you in ten minutes. I’ll sign in the evidence and go through it with Bofur. Then I might have some lunch, if that’s alright with you.”

Thorin glowered, muttering under his breath at the sarcasm as he turned and stomped off.

“Somebody had a bad night last night,” Bard murmered, watching him go.

Thranduil snorted. “That’s his problem, not ours. He’s too erratic these days. Maybe he needs a woman. Or something.”

His partner chuckled. “The only woman he’d be able to hold on to with his moods would be the inflatable type,” he said. “I cannot imagine a flesh-and-blood female willingly putting up with him for more than a few hours at a time.”

“And even that’s being generous,” Thranduil muttered, scrawling his signature on the bottom of his report. “A dog might be more appropriate company for him.”

Bard laughed heartily. “I thought you were an animal lover?” he demanded.

“I am,” he replied. “But dogs are pack animals by nature and enjoy company. I guess there’s a mutt somewhere who wouldn’t be too choosy who that company was.”

“Disgraceful,” the dark haired man said with a grin. “I don’t think I’d put an animal through that, to be honest. I was thinking maybe an ornament or something.”

Thranduil frowned, shifting piles of reports together and shuffling them into a neat pile. “You’re becoming too domesticated,” he observed. “Ever since you started seeing what’s-her-name, you’ve become all textiles and furnishings, dammit. You’re the only man I know who could get into a half-hour debate on the mood-enhancement of a shade of paint, for Chrissakes.”

“Petra’s into all that feng shui stuff,” his partner replied.

“Feng shit,” Thranduil muttered under his breath. “Once your kids are let loose with the crayons and paints, all your feng shui nonsense goes down the toilet. I’ve been to your house – I’ve seen the destruction they can cause.”

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug of agreement. “Kids are kids, man,” he said. “Surely Legolas was like that at that age?”

“He was a quiet kid,” he answered, and slammed his desk drawer closed. “He wasn’t destructive.”

“He wasn’t normal, in that case,” Bard shot back. “It’s healthy for children to be a bit lively.”

“There’s lively, and there’s demolishing your lounge and turning it into a battle fortress with the couch as castle ramparts,” Thranduil said dryly. “And if I remember correctly, the coffee table was overturned to form some sort of blockade against missiles. Which were oranges from your kitchen. And anyway – you’re too untidy to do that feng shui stuff.”

The other man’s eyebrows lifted. “Ooo, bitchy,” he drawled. “Just because you don’t have a single speck of dust in your apartment! My house is lived in. Was,” he corrected as an afterthought. “Now it’s starting to resemble a temple of meditation and spiritual something-or-other.”

Thranduil laughed, standing and tucking his Glock 21 into his waistband. “You got yourself into this, now you have to live with it,” he observed. “Come on; let’s get this stuff down to Bofur before Thorin has a cardiac arrest.”

The two men left the bustling squad room and made their way down to Evidence, where they found Bofur chuckling at something on his phone.

“More porn, my friend?” Bard teased, leaning his forearms on the desk.

The other man’s eyes twinkled as he looked up from the device. “No. Youtube funny cat videos,” he told him, flipping the gadget round to face him. “Watch this. It’s hilarious.”

Bard’s mouth twitched in amusement as the on-screen footage showed a multitude of felines fighting with Christmas trees. “You know it’s the height of summer, and you’re watching things involving Christmas,” he pointed out. “That’s sad.”

Thranduil slanted a glance at the screen as he slid the evidence bag onto the desk, shaking his head silently. “Can you book this in?” he asked.

“Sure thing,” Bofur replied, shutting the phone off and popping it into his back pocket. “What do you have for me this lovely morning?”

“Desert Eagle, three-fifty-seven Magnum,” he answered. “Three rounds in the magazine.”

Bofur whistled. “Is this from the Warrington raid?” he asked, glancing up at the tall blonde, who nodded.

“Yes. Ballistics have the bullet taken from the vic and are running it just now,” he said. “We should have the results back within a few hours, all being well.”

“Then it’s time to slam-dunk that son of a bitch into a cell in hell where he belongs,” Bard commented. “For good, this time.”

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, pal,” Bofur said wisely. “These things have a habit of taking twists and turns – you should know that.”

“Isn’t it eggs?” he asked with a frown.

“What?”

“Chickens…eggs?”

“Oh, shut up,” Thranduil muttered. “Just book this in so we can get the hell out of here. My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”

“You could eat your own weight in a single sitting,” his partner grumbled.

“Jealous, my friend?” he quipped with a grin.

“Very.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes, waiting patiently while Bofur juggled paperwork and hunted for a pen. After a seemingly endless wait, the gun was booked in and taken to be stored securely, leaving the two detectives free to leave.

“Let’s hope the answers from ballistics are the ones we’re looking for,” Bard said a while later. He sat across from Thranduil, tucking into a plate of fries and mac cheese. “With our only witness lying in a refrigerator in the morgue, it’s all we have to go on.”

His partner sliced into the thick steak on his plate. “They will match the bullets pulled from the vic,” he said confidently. “I’d bet this month’s pay on it.”

“Have you gone through your statement for Brandford’s trial?”

He nodded, chewing on the meat. “Yes. I would suggest you go over yours, as well. His defence team is one of the best this side of Venus.”

Bard snorted, scooping a massive forkful of macaroni into his mouth. “He’d need Jesus Christ himself to defend him if he has any hopes of getting off this time.”

Ice blue eyes flickered towards the work station as a customer entered and made their way towards it.

“A black coffee, please,” she said, her voice quiet but her accent reaching his ears nevertheless. Long black hair swept around her hips as she swung her backpack from her left shoulder to root around in it. Tight jeans hugged long legs and strong thighs, caressing a curvaceous rear. A tight black, short-sleeved top was cropped above waist-height, allowing the expanse of flesh around her middle to be on show.

His mouth went dry, and he swallowed.

She found her purse and paid for her coffee, flashing an appreciative smile at the cashier as she lifted the take-away cup. Her body turned to face him as she prepared to leave, the deep V plunging into a cleavage that could stop a stampeding rhino from a hundred yards. Her eyes caught his, and she smiled shyly, lifting her head slightly in acknowledgement.

Bard had stopped talking, watching his friend and the woman who’d caught his attention. “Friend of yours?” he asked casually.

Thranduil snapped back to the present with a scowl as she left the café. “No. Just someone whose car wouldn’t start yesterday, that’s all,” he said.

One eyebrow quirked as he took a drink of his tea.

“Quit that,” he snapped. “Stop reading into every damned thing.”

Bard chuckled. “You’ve been alone too long, man,” he observed.

“You’ve been taken over by some god-forsaken monster whose sole mission in life is to pair me up with someone and make my life a misery,” Thranduil muttered, slicing his steak a little more savagely than intended. “Give it a rest.”

The brown-haired man grinned. “You two would look quite appealing together,” he remarked. “You – very tall, long blonde hair…her – tall for a woman, long black hair…”

“You’re insane,” he grumbled, reaching for his phone as it beeped a message. He scrolled through the screens, frowning. “Results are back from ballistics. The striations match.”

“ _That’s_ what I’m talking about,” Bard cheered, banging his cup down enthusiastically. Tea splodged everywhere. “I hope this motherfucker has a damned good attorney, because he’s going to need nothing short of a miracle.”

Thranduil smirked as he shut off the phone again. “Too bad Brandford’s already grabbed the hottest defence team in the district,” he said. Taking a final bite of his steak, he sighed as he slid the plate to one side and lifted his coffee.

“You know Dimitrius Bolg, though,” Bard said. “And his connections. If there’s a way to get him out of this, he’ll find it. Or they’ll find it for him. How many times have we had him bang-to-rights, Thran? And he’s walked away every single time. Every single time.”

The blonde shook his head as he sipped his drink. “Not this time. The DNA from the hand grip is his, the bullets in the vic and from the walls of the warehouse belong to the same gun. We _know_ he executed the witness, and we know where and when.”

“But we still need to put that weapon in his hand when it was fired,” Bard reasoned. “And his alone. But with no GSR as we couldn’t find him, that’s nigh on impossible.”

Thranduil’s eyes strayed over his partner’s shoulder, watching the black-haired woman cross the street and climb into her car. “And the trigger was wiped clean,” he murmered.

Bard glanced over his shoulder to see what he was looking at, turning back with one eyebrow lifted. “Go after her. Ask her out,” he said.

Thranduil brought his gaze back to him. “Shut up and eat that. Leave Bolg for now. He’ll slip up and give us what we need.” His eyes followed the SUV as it pulled out from the sidewalk and disappeared. “It’s his father we need to worry about.”

His partner lifted both eyebrows in acknowledgement. “Yes…the ever-elusive Cycnus Azog,” he said. His eyebrows lowered in a deep frown. “What did Thorin say his name meant? I forgot.”

“Cycnus was a bad bastard, and the son of Ares, the God of War,” Thranduil replied. “You really should’ve paid more attention in High School.” He rose from his seat as he drained the last of his coffee, heading over to settle the bill for the lunch. “Hurry up. I want to meet with Dr Alex and go over his autopsy findings.”

Both men left the café and crossed over to their vehicle; Thranduil automatically folding his tall frame into the driver’s seat while Bard slid into the passenger’s side.

“Are you coming to mine for dinner tonight?” the smaller man questioned as he fastened his seat belt.

Thranduil shook his head, checking his mirror before gliding out into the flow of traffic. “No, but thanks anyway. I have some paperwork to go through before I head into court on Wednesday. I want to make sure I’ve got everything committed to memory, with no room for error. Raincheck?”

“As long as you make it for Bain’s birthday do at the weekend,” his friend replied. “He’s really looking forward to some basketball with you, even though he swears you cheat.”

“I do not!” he shot back. “I can’t help having a better reach than the boy. He’ll grow through time…maybe. Maybe not, given your height.”

“Sarcastic sod,” Bard muttered. “Any more of that, and I’ll put you on dishwashing duties afterwards.”

Thranduil grinned, palming the vehicle around the corner. “The chore would be worth it to get a rise out of you,” he remarked.

“I want a new partner,” Bard grumbled. “I think I’ll put in a request.”

The blonde tipped his head back and laughed heartily.


	2. Chapter 2

** CHAPTER TWO **

****

Talia puffed out a huge breath of air as she dropped the battered box into the middle of the floor, lowering herself down onto her knees in front of it. She tore the tape off, rolling it into a ball and tossing it carelessly over her shoulder. Opening the flaps, she pulled out a handful of books, and smiled.

Her head shot up as a loud knock sounded on her door.

Frowning, she got to her feet and padded barefoot through the apartment, peering through the spy hole. Her eyes widened in astonishment.

“Hi,” she said, opening the door to find the blonde who’d started her car for her outside the shopping complex a few days previously. The same blonde she’d seen in the café, and who’d made a habit of popping into her mind several times since.

He blinked in surprise. “Hi,” he returned, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I’m uh…I’m sorry to disturb you, but this was delivered to my apartment this morning by mistake.” He handed her a box wrapped in brown packaging paper.

She took it from him, frowning slightly as she scanned the printed label. “Oh! This is the new signal booster for my internet connection,” she said, lifting her eyes to his with a delighted grin. “I expected this two days ago.”

He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his jeans pockets. “I guess the mail man either got lost, or can’t read,” he said.

She smiled. His long blonde hair was loose around his shoulders, as opposed to tied back in a ponytail the last time she’d seen him. “Thanks for bringing it over,” she said. “I was just going to make a coffee…can I offer you one? Seeing as that’s twice you’ve come to my rescue.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he said, but she waved her hand impatiently.

“You’re not,” she told him. “I’m still in the middle of unpacking, and could do with an excuse to take a break from it. C’mon in, sorry about the mess. It’s a bit like a war zone right now.” She stood aside, allowing him to pass through the doorway.

“So I assume the apartment met your requirements,” he remarked, glancing around as she closed the door and ushered him through to the lounge area. Large windows flooded natural light into the room.

She laughed. “Yeah. I like the fact that I’m not right on ground level,” she answered as she placed the box onto a space on the large table sat in one corner. “Damn…this must look really shit.” She laughed, embarrassed.

“No, it’s fine,” he assured her. He held his hand out. “I’m Thranduil. Thranduil Oropherion.”

She took his hand, shaking it with a surprisingly firm grip. “Talia Taylor,” she replied. “But then you already know that, from the name on the package.”

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “That’s an unusual name,” he said.

She moved through to the open-plan kitchen area, filling up the kettle and switching it on to boil. “It’s Hebrew,” she said. “It means heaven’s dew, or some nonsense. My mother liked names with weird meanings, and that’s what I got landed with at birth.”

“My father was the same,” he told her. He cleared away a space on the couch and sat down as he talked. “He chose my name because it means vigorous spring…do not ask me why the hell that made sense to him at the time.”

She chuckled, spooning coffee into two mugs. “Parents sure have a lot to answer for,” she commented. “I guess you’re UK-originated too?”

He nodded. “Judging by your accent, I’d say about four hundred miles or so away from where you come from.”

“Home, sweet home,” she said wistfully.

“You miss Scotland?”

“No,” she answered. “Well…the country, yes. The lack of opportunities, no.”

“What brought you over here?” he questioned. He leaned his left elbow on the back of the couch, turning slightly to face her as she prepared the coffee.

“I suppose I was just really unsettled,” she said. “I wanted to see a bit of the world, put some miles on the clock, so to speak. And this is where I ended up.”

“How long have you been here?” He took the cup she handed to him as she approached him.

“Thirteen years,” she replied, sitting cross-legged on the carpet. “Something about here must’ve struck me without me even realising it, because I stayed.” A smile touched her lips as she blew into the hot drink she held. “What about you?”

Something flashed across his eyes, but was gone in an instant.

“Like you…lack of opportunities,” he said. “I’d ground myself into a rut at work, and needed a fresh perspective. A clean break, a new outlook. And I found that here.”

“What do you do?” she asked curiously.

He reached round to his back and brought his arm back round, depositing a handgun on the couch beside him. Her eyes widened as she looked at it, and he saw the fear in her eyes as she looked from it to him. Pulling his shield from his jeans pocket, he sat it beside the weapon.

“It’s legal,” he assured her.

She smiled. “That’s why you helped me with my car the other day,” she said. “A cop won’t walk past someone in need of help.”

One shoulder lifted in a semi-shrug. “I wouldn’t walk past anyone needing help anyway, cop or not,” he said. “It’s not in my nature.” _Especially someone as gorgeous as you._

“You don’t look like law enforcement,” she said. “Especially with hair like yours.”

He laughed, tipping his head back and giving her a heart-stopping view of his throat. “The department’s always on at me to cut it, but I refuse.”

“I don’t blame you,” she snorted. “I know women who would kill for hair like that. Quite a few, actually.”

He chuckled, drinking his coffee. “It’s hair. I don’t get why everybody makes such an issue about it. It’s either too long, or not suitable for a man, or some crap like that. I don’t even listen anymore.”

“I think whoever says that is jealous,” she decided. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a guy with hair like it – it’s so long and straight. L’Oreal would go crazy to have you as one of their hair-model-whatdyoucall-thems.”

“So what do you do?” he asked.

“I’ve just taken on a job as a manager of a bar over on West Thirty Fourth,” she told him. “Maybe you know it – The Shire?”

“I haven’t been in there for many a year,” he said. “We used to go there after work sometimes, a group of us just wanting to unwind after a hard shift.”

“But not anymore?”

His eyes sparkled. “No. But I might be persuaded.”

She grinned, her cheeks turning pink as she sipped her coffee.

“When do you start?”

“Next week,” she answered. “That gives me some time to settle in here, find my way around a little, get used to the area.” A frown creased her forehead. “How come you ended up with my mail?”

“I have the same apartment number, only I’m on Mirkwood Drive,” he told her. “It’s only just around the corner from here. A stone’s throw away.”

“It’s a small world, in more ways than one,” she remarked. “What were the chances?”

Ice blue eyes smiled into hers. “Coincidence?”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” she replied. “I do believe, however, that the chances are we’ll probably bump into one another again at some point.”

A silence hovered between the two.

“How about tomorrow night?” he suggested, his voice quiet. “Dinner?”

Her heart started to thump harder against her ribs. “I think I’d like that,” she said softly. “What time, and where?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven?” he suggested.

“Sounds good.”

He nodded, setting his empty cup down and lifting his gun and shield, tucking them back into his waistband. “I’d better make tracks,” he said. “I have to be at the precinct in less than half an hour.”

“Well thanks for dropping my booster round,” she said, mentally kicking herself out of the trance she’d drifted into, and getting to her feet as he stood up.

“It was my pleasure,” he replied. “So…tomorrow, seven o’clock?”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said with a smile.

She followed him across the apartment to the door, aware of a warm tingle in her blood as her gaze fixed on his hair as it drifted flawlessly down his back.

“Until tomorrow then,” he said, opening the door and stepping into the hallway. “Enjoy your day, Talia.”

“You too, Thranduil,” she said, and he closed the door with a smile.

She took a deep breath as she found herself alone once more, stunned that this seriously good-looking guy had asked her out.

Maybe moving hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

*****

“Hey hey hey! That’s my goddamned coffee!”

“No it’s not; you left yours on the desk over there,” Thranduil said, swiftly swiping the mug from the small detective who made a leap for it. “Find your own, Kili.”

“Dammit,” he muttered, catching sight of his own mug, which was indeed on the other desk. “Uncle’s looking for you and Bowman.”

“He would be,” Thranduil grunted. “What does he want?”

“Your arse, nailed to his dartboard,” the younger man quipped with a grin. “I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“Whatchya done now to get into trouble, Big Man?” another voice asked, as Kili’s brother Fili appeared at Thranduil’s elbow. “You know he never wants anyone unless they’re in some kind of trouble.”

“Maybe that explains why you two reprobates are always in his office,” the blonde replied. “Have you seen Bard anywhere?”

“He was heading down to the cafeteria the last time I saw him, about twenty minutes ago,” Bofur piped up from behind a partition.

Thranduil frowned. “What are you doing up in the land of the living?” he demanded as he shifted a pile of folders to one side of his desk.

“Ah, you know how it is,” he said. “Balin’s on evidence duty today and tomorrow.”

Fili perched on the corner of Thranduil’s desk and folded his arms. “He only likes it down there because it’s a cushy number,” he observed. “He doesn’t actually have to do any real work, like arresting perps and dealing with the scumbags.”

“Leave him alone, he’s an old man,” Thranduil said, shoving him off the desk. “He’s entitled to an easier shift once in a while. You’re just jealous.”

Kili laughed as his brother stumbled after being pushed from his perch.

“Hey, Thran,” Bard greeted his partner as he would his way through the officers loitering the squad room. “I grabbed you a bacon roll.”

“Great,” he said, taking it from him. “Thanks. Thorin’s looking for us, by the way.”

His friend grunted something unintelligible under his breath as he peeled the skin from an orange. Turning back in the direction he’d come from, he wandered back out of the room with Thranduil at his back.

“Guys,” Thorin greeted them as he stepped out of his office further down the hallway. He stood to the side of the door, ushering them inside with one hand. The two detectives entered, Bard throwing himself carelessly onto a seat and Thranduil remaining on his feet.

“What’s up, Thorin?” he questioned as the door closed.

Thorin sighed, rounding the desk and sitting down. “Dimitrius Bolg’s been arrested,” he said.

“Yaaaas,” Bard hissed. “It’s about time that demon was off the streets. Where’d you lift him?”

“Straight from his woman’s place,” he replied, lacing his fingers together. “That’s not the problem though.”

Thranduil lifted one eyebrow in silent question.

“He’s been remanded in high security until he faces the judge,” Thorin went on. “The problem is his old man.”

“Azog?” Bard snorted in disgust.

Thorin nodded. “All I can say is, be careful. Word’s already on the streets that he’s gunning for you two. Take _every_ precaution, don’t take risks, and cover each other’s backs at all times. He’s as pissed as hell, and isn’t going to willingly accept his spawn being locked away indefinitely. I get the feeling he needs him for something going down, and now we’ve put a spanner in the works.”

“I’d like to put a spanner in his face,” Bard muttered, chewing on a segment of orange.

“Your words are appreciated, as is your concern,” Thranduil finally spoke up. “However, they are pointless. We don’t take chances, and we don’t leave ourselves open to risk.”

“Granted,” Thorin acknowledged. “But I’m telling you to be extra vigilant. Just keep your ears open and your mouths closed, that’s all. Stay on your toes.”

The blonde rolled his eyes.

“If I hear anything else, you’ll be the first to know,” Thorin continued. “This isn’t some random bum with a thorn up his arse, guys. Azog’s not called the Defiler for nothing. He’s the devil incarnate. Just remember that. If he plays into our hands, we might be able to take him down too.”

Bard continued chewing. “He’s been too damned smart over the years,” he said. “Every time we think we have him for something, he manages to either side-step it, or stay one step ahead of us. He’s a drain on humanity.”

Thranduil glanced at his partner, before turning his attention back to Thorin. “Why give us the warning now?” he asked. “We’ve locked horns with him before.”

The other man shrugged. “Like I said, I have the feeling there’s something big planned, and Bolg would have been playing a big part in it if he was free. But he isn’t, and that causes a problem for Azog.”

“Fair do’s,” he admitted. “Forewarned is forearmed. We’ll take it on board.”

“Good,” Thorin said, visibly relaxing. “You two are the best this department has, and I’m not going to have you taken out. Not least of all by that scum family.”

One side of Thranduil’s mouth quirked in a semi-smile. “Nobody will take us out; that’s a guarantee.”

“Glad to hear it,” Thorin muttered. “Now, piss off out of my office. I have calls to make.”

“Yes…it’s been refreshing as always to converse,” Bard said dryly, hoisting himself out of the chair.

Thorin showed him his middle finger, but didn’t reply, lowering his head instead to a pile of papers on the desk in front of him.

“What did you make of that?” Bard asked in a low voice as they headed along the hallway towards the main exit.

Thranduil shrugged, peeling the wrapper from the bacon roll he’d momentarily forgotten about. “He’s just being cautious,” he replied. He took a bite out of the snack. “We’re all moving targets every time we set foot outside anyway; I don’t know why he’s getting his underwear all bunched up.”

“Thankyou. Thorin’s underwear bunched up is the image I was _sorely_ lacking, you big tosser,” his partner muttered under his breath as two uniformed officers passed.

Thranduil snorted as he took another bite. “I wouldn’t place bets that he even wears underwear, so don’t lose any sleep over it.”

“You can be a right bastard when the notion takes you,” Bard snapped in mock annoyance. “Put me right off my food for the rest of the day, why don’t you? Oh yes…you already _have._ I hate you.”

“I know,” the blonde grinned as they stepped out into the sunshine.

“Still on for the weekend?”

“Yes,” he answered, and clicked the car keys to deactivate the alarm. “Of course. I told you I would be there. I already ordered the boy’s gift.”

“What did you get him? You didn’t need to buy anything, you know,” Bard said, getting into the passenger seat, still eating his orange.

“Like I’d show up for his birthday empty-handed,” he muttered, getting into the car. “I bought him a new game for his Xbox.”

“You bought it already? When did you go shopping?”

“I didn’t. I went online.”

“Ha,” Bard snorted. “You won’t meet any eligible women online.”

Thranduil smirked as he guided the vehicle out of the parking lot. “I don’t need to.”

“What are you up to?” he demanded with a frown, tossing the peel out of the window.

“Not a thing,” he replied, still grinning. “Perhaps I don’t need to meet any eligible women, maybe I’ve already met one.”

“Who?!”

“My business to know, and yours to find out,” he replied enigmatically.

“You miserable _fuck_!,” his friend said incredulously. “C’mon man, tell me. Who is she? Do I know her?”

“You know of her,” he replied. “I’m taking her to dinner tomorrow night.”

“Who in the name of fuck is it?”

His grin changed to a hearty laugh. “You saw her yesterday.”

“I saw a _lot_ of people yesterday, you twat,” Bard retorted. “Where did I see her? Did you speak to her? Did I speak to her?”

“No. Neither of us spoke to her. I acknowledged her, though.”

Brown eyes narrowed in a thoughtful glare. “Haaaa..! I’ve got it! I’ve got it, man. The woman from the café!”

Ice blue eyes sparkled as he glanced over at him. “Yes.”

“Oh you dirty dog,” Bard chortled. “You dirty, dirty dog! When was this arranged? And why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did!” he laughed. “I received her mail by mistake this morning; apparently we’re the same apartment number, only she’s over on Greenwood. I took it round, she invited me in for a coffee, and the rest…”

“Is history?” his partner supplied, as he drifted off. “Ooo, you greasy punk! Talk about smooth..!”

Thranduil’s grin remained in place as he steered around the vehicle in front, leaning on the gas. “Who knows what’ll happen?” he mused. “Maybe we won’t like one another at all.”

Bard made an un-gentlemanly noise as he slouched in the passenger seat. “And maybe you’ll fall head-over-ass in love and you’ll be a fucking _nightmare_ to work with,” he corrected. “Where are you taking her?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I don’t know what she likes to eat, so I haven’t given any thought to making reservations anywhere.”

“Better get on it, man, and fast,” the brunette informed him. “And I want a detailed account as soon as y’all get home. Not _one minute_ later.”


	3. Chapter 3

** CHAPTER THREE **

****

Talia tugged at the hem of her top, turning sideways and scowling at herself in the mirror. Pulling her stomach in, her breasts stuck out at a ridiculous angle, enhanced by the bra she’d chosen to wear. She huffed in exasperation, whipping the garment up over her head and tossing it onto the bed beside her.

The hangers in the closet clacked together as she whipped them to one side, searching for something appropriate.

She liked Thranduil, and wanted to make the right impression. Some thing sexy and alluring, but not slutty. Something that hinted but didn’t expose. Something classy, but not over-the-top. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip as she went past one top after the other, before her fingers wrapped around one of the hangers and pulled it free.

She held up a deep blue top that had short sleeves with a piece cut away from the shoulders and a scoop neck. Silver sparkles caught the light as the light dusting of sequins moved with the material. She threw the hanger aside, yanking it on and gazing thoughtfully at her reflection.

Better.

Her black pants were nothing special; just plain black. She’d straightened her hair so that it fell in silky, poker-straight lengths down her back, with the top braided away from her face. Large silver sparkly hooped earrings and black flip-flops finished her look off. The only other jewellery she wore was the wide silver celtic band around the index finger of her right hand, which she never removed. She’d worn it for years, and was intrigued to notice that Thranduil wore the same one, on his index finger too, on the same hand.

The thought made one eyebrow twitch as she studied herself in the mirror. Did she believe in coincidences? No. But the odds of meeting a man who had his stunning good looks, his towering height, his amazing long, blonde hair and who wore the same ring as her, were one in a gazillion. Those ice blue eyes that seemed to promise heaven on earth or the end of all existence were indescribable. Each time she looked into them, she felt herself drowning; spinning around in a whirlpool and being sucked far below her depth. She itched to run her hands through his hair, and to see if his mouth was as soft to kiss as it looked.

Giving herself a mental shake, she scowled at her reflection and decided that her clothing would do for the evening. Not knowing where he was taking her hadn’t helped, as she had no idea what the occasion would call for.

And just because her hormones were screaming for her to get intimate with him, that didn’t mean for a split second that his were roaring and yelling at him to do likewise. He’d asked her out for dinner, nothing more.

Still, her nerves wouldn’t settle, and she almost leapt off the floor when a heavy knock sounded on the door. She straightened her shoulders as she marched across the carpet, taking a steadying deep breath as she opened it.

Thranduil lifted his head and looked at her.

“Hi,” she said, with a smile.

“Hi,” he replied, returning her smile. “You look lovely.”

She tugged on the fabric of the top. “I wasn’t sure what to wear,” she said, almost apologetically. “You didn’t say where we were going, so…”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “The colour suits you.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” she said, lifting a light jacket and folding it over her arm.

He wore a light blue shirt which hung loose from black pants, his hair flowing freely down his back. He smiled as he glanced down at his attire. “Shall we go?”

She stepped over the threshold, pulling the door closed and quickly locking it. “Ready when you are,” she replied.

“I thought maybe we could go to the place near where your new job is,” he said, turning and walking alongside her as they walked along the hallway towards the stairs.

“Sounds good,” she said. “I’m open to new experiences, and these last few weeks have _definitely_ been new experiences.”

“New things are good,” he told her. “They expand your outlooks, your horizons. There’s nothing to be learned or gained from staying in an enclosed bubble. Life is for living, it’s there to grab with both hands.”

_I’d love to grab you with both hands,_ she thought. “I guess so,” she replied instead. “I haven’t seen much of the neighbourhood, but from what I have, it’s got a lot to offer.”

He nodded as they descended the stairs. “The residential side is very quiet and peaceful, and the nightlife side has a bit of everything. There’s talk about a casino opening over on Forty-Third.”

“Would that be popular?” she asked, lifting her hair back over her shoulder as they stepped outside.

He nodded as he placed a hand on her lower back to guide her towards his car. “There was one a few blocks away from the proposed site that closed down a few years ago,” he told her. “It was heaving every night of any given week. The turnover must’ve been in the millions.” He held open the passenger door for her, and she slid inside. The smell of leather and his cologne immediately filled her senses.

“So how come it closed?” she asked, having waited as he’d closed her door and rounded the vehicle, getting in at his side. “If something was that lucrative, why close down?”

“It was a front for prostitution and human trafficking,” he told her.

“Oh.”

“They were bringing young girls in, barely out of High School, breaking them and turning them out to work,” he went on. “These girls could hardly speak English, and they were being made to do the most despicable things.”

“The human race can be a bastard race,” she said softly, glancing out of the window as the car moved away from the sidewalk.

He glanced at her. “That sounds like you have first-hand experience,” he remarked casually.

She shook her head. “Not particularly, but I read a lot. I listen to everything. I see everything. The more I absorb, the less I like.” She crossed one ankle over the other, relaxing against the plush seat.

“There is good in this world,” he said after a short pause. “You just have to look for it.”

Her eyes met his briefly, before he turned his back to the road.

“I know,” she said on a slight sigh. “To be honest, I prefer animals over people. Does that make me sound bad?”

He chuckled. “No. Not at all,” he answered. “It makes you sound like you’re exceptionally picky about who you spend your time with.”

“I am,” she said, and their eyes met again for a second. “I suppose you must see a lot of shit with your work.”

“More than I would like,” he admitted, the car gliding smoothly in his capable hands. “I see things that make me sick to my stomach, I see things that anger me no end. And I see things that would warm the coldest hearts. It balances itself out in some aspects.”

“Have you always been a cop?”

“More or less. Before moving to the unit I’m in just now, I worked in bomb disposal. I have extensive firearm experience as well.”

“A man of many talents,” she murmered, lapsing into a silence with a slight smile.

He wondered what was going through her mind.

The restaurant was reasonably quiet when they arrived, and Thranduil was inwardly glad. The peace and quiet would give them chance to get to know each other a little better. Truth be told, he wanted to get to know her a _lot_ better. His inner senses had tingled the moment she’d opened her door, standing before him like a sparkling Goddess, and he’d been dumbstruck. Very few women over recent years had caught his attention in such a way, and it had taken him aback slightly.

She seemed to radiate an inner warmth, along with a sense of adventure, and he knew without asking or experiencing it that she had a wicked sense of humour. Unable to decipher how he knew, he accepted it, and made it his mission to discover more.

The food was delicious, and the conversation comfortable as the evening rolled on and the sun began her nightly descent.

“How come you’re so damned tall?” she asked with a laugh, chewing on a mouthful of pasta.

He grinned, shrugging. “My father was tall,” he replied. “Not as tall as me, but tall nevertheless. He stood at around the six-two, six-three mark.”

“And you are..?”

“Six-five.”

“Jesus.”

He laughed. “What? Being this height has its advantages.”

“Yeah…basketball, window cleaning, and being a human tree?” she quipped.

“Those, and others too,” he said.

“So what family do you have?” she asked, changing the subject.

“My parents both passed away,” he told her. “I was an only child, so there are no brothers or sisters. The only family I have is my son, Legolas. He’s eighteen, and has just enrolled into university.”

“What’s he studying?”

“History, specialising in ancient weaponry,” he answered. “My wife was an expert in that field.”

She lowered her fork. “If you have a wife, then why are we sitting here?” Her eyes had taken on a hard look, which he didn’t doubt had the ability to out-stare a poised cobra.

His ice blue eyes held hers, daring her to look away. “We’re sitting here because I am no longer married,” he replied. “Put your claws away, little kitty. I’m not a philandering sex-pest, and you’re not encroaching on another woman’s territory. Relax.” He lowered his gaze back to his plate, lifting a forkful of steak pie. “She died.”

Talia closed her eyes briefly, ashamed at the venom in her previous words. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I guess that made me sound like a right bitch.”

“No. It made you sound like you were suddenly aware that you might be stepping on someone’s toes,” he answered. He looked back at her as he chewed. “It was a long time ago. Legolas was only two years old.”

“What happened?” she asked. “You can tell me to piss off if you don’t want to answer.”

He smiled, just a small smile, before answering her question. “She hadn’t been feeling well for a while, aches and pains that she hadn’t told me about,” he said. “I finally persuaded her to see a doctor, and they found she had cervical cancer. It was too late to do anything.”

A silence settled over them.

“Thranduil…I…I’m really sorry,” she said. “That must’ve been an awful thing to accept and take on board.”

One broad shoulder lifted in a semi-shrug. “Shit happens,” he said simply. “I had to deal with it, close it off, and move on. My son was relying on me to be both parents, and I had to live up to that, as well as providing for him.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she murmered, pushing the remaining pasta and sauce around the plate before her. Her appetite had vanished, and she eventually rested her fork down.

“Hey.” A warm hand reached across and gripped hers. “Do not feel bad,” he whispered. “I can’t go back and change it, it’s as simple as that. Yes, I mourned, I grieved, I hated the world for a long time. But I came to terms with what had happened and I survived. I had no choice.” He released her hand. “Your reaction is quite normal.”

She studied him as he finished the piece of food that was left. “Where did you find the strength to keep going?”

“From my child,” he replied. “I’ll admit, there were days when I didn’t want to exist, where I just wanted to give up and fall asleep forever, but I couldn’t. Legolas needed me – hell, he still does – so I had to make the effort. I had to drag myself out of bed every day and face life.”

“I don’t know how you coped,” she said, with a trace of sadness in her voice. “Most people would have fallen apart and given up.”

“I fell apart,” he said, lifting his glass of wine and gazing at her over the rim. “I still think of her. I can’t _not_ think of her; she was supposed to walk through life with me, at my side. But it wasn’t meant to be.”

She took a deep breath. “I’ve seen my fair share of death,” she said. “But never someone as close to me as that, or in such heart breaking circumstances. I shouldn’t have brought this subject up.” She shook her head and leaned back in her seat, arms folded across her abdomen, her gaze to one side.

He set the glass down, swiftly rising to his feet and looming over the table with a speed that shocked her. His left hand slid into her hair and he tugged her towards him, his mouth crushing hers in a brief, but meaningful kiss.

Her eyes widened as he pulled back, her shock clear. He lowered himself back into his seat, his tongue swiping over his full lower lip as he did so. Ice blue eyes stared into hers.

She laughed nervously. “What was that for?”

“To reinforce the fact that I find you wildly attractive, and that I intend to pursue my findings,” he answered. “Does that present a problem?”

“No,” she said, a little breathless. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Good,” he said, lifting his hand and signalling the waiter. “Two coffees, please,” he instructed him, and the young man vanished obediently.

Talia’s eyes narrowed as she watched the retreating server. “Why do I get the feeling that you always get what you want?” she murmered thoughtfully, turning her gaze back to his.

“Maybe because I do,” he said, his voice low.

Liquid heat pooled in between her thighs, which she clamped together under the table. Seconds later, their coffees arrived, along with the bill.

“Can we split it?” she asked, as he slid his card out and handed it to the waiter.

“Indeed we cannot,” he replied.

Her eyebrows rose. “I reiterate what I said about you always getting what you want,” she said dryly, and he grinned.

“Most of the time,” he told her. “But not always.”

*****

Darkness had settled by the time he pulled the car to a stop outside her apartment, turning the engine off.

“I really enjoyed tonight,” she said, unfastening her seat belt. “Thankyou.”

“Thank _you_ for indulging me,” he said with a smile.

The street lights reflected in his eyes, and highlighted perfect features. Cheekbones that supermodels would kill for, a perfectly straight aristocratic nose, and plump, luscious lips that he’d already proven could sweep her off-balance. Thick, dark eyelashes lowered as he blinked slowly.

Without realising she was moving, she leaned towards him slightly. His seat belt snapped off and shot back into the retractor. Her eyes closed as his lips crashed against hers, a soft murmer escaping. Her hands lifted and touched his chest, feeling the heat and his thumping heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt.

He twisted his head to a better angle, deepening the kiss. His mouth was warm against hers, his touch confident and bordering on demanding. She opened hers, whimpering with lust as his tongue immediately took possession. Warm hands slid around her waist, tugging her closer over the console, and she wound her arms around his neck.

His kiss was both deep and erotic. His tongue coaxed hers into a dance ritual older than time itself, and she responded without hesitation or thought. She could feel her own heart hammering within her, her blood pressure steadily rising as his hands ran up and down her back.

She’d _never_ been this turned on from a kiss. Never. She wanted more. She wanted everything, and he knew it from the pleading little noises she unconsciously made in the back of her throat. As tempted as he was, he didn’t want to push her too fast, and he wasn’t willing to settle for a quick fuck in the car.

She gasped and tipped her head back as his mouth explored along her jaw and down her neck; hot, biting kisses moving along the sensitive skin. Her fingers tangled in the lengths of his hair as she held him against her, unwilling to let him go. A deep rumble echoed from him as he kissed back upwards, his mouth finding hers again in a kiss that pulled her deeper into the whirlpool that was rapidly dragging her under. A gnawing ache throbbed between her legs, demanding attention. Likewise, his groin had stiffened to impossibly hard levels, throbbing and pulsating in the confines of his underwear and his pants.

Harsh, panting breaths filled the interior of the car as they broke apart, still holding each other. Thranduil gazed into deep blue eyes that looked black in the dim light, trying to read her emotions.

She was highly aroused, he could see it clearly.

He shifted one hand, his thumb rubbing softly over her lower lip. His nostrils flared as he fought with his own arousal, and struggled hard against the urge to take her right there and then. She deserved better than to be mauled and groped in the back seat by someone with the sex drive of a horny teenager who had no control.

“It’s time I did the gentlemanly thing and let you go home,” he said. “Call me.”

She nodded, swallowing as she made her own effort to pull herself and her hormones together. “I will,” she promised.

He leaned back to her, giving her a final kiss. “Sleep well, little kitty,” he whispered.

“You too,” she whispered back, turning and getting out of the car.

He leaned back against the seat, watching her ascend the few steps up to her apartment building, his gaze absorbing her stride, the sway of her ass, her long hair as it rippled down her back. He closed his eyes briefly, before fastening his seat belt and starting the car.

He drove away with a shake of his head.


	4. Chapter 4

** CHAPTER FOUR **

****

Talia paced up and down the carpet, her arms crossed over her stomach, her bare feet sinking into the pile of the rug as she crossed it. Her toes flexed against the plush fibres, curling and uncurling in succession. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess; emotions and feelings firing through her head at the speed of light. Her stomach was knotted in a tight ball of nerves, a deep feeling of nausea sweeping through her.

Thranduil had done the gentlemanly thing in dropping her off. She knew that. But she hadn’t wanted him to drop her off.

She’d wanted more than anything to keep him with her, to peel the clothes from his tall, muscular body and lose herself in him.

She shook her head in an almost disgusted gesture. She _never_ slept around. She _never_ felt like this after only one date. And she _never_ slept with someone she’d practically only just met. It went against every moral she had ever held any faith in, everything she’d ever conditioned herself to believe in. The overpowering urge to throw that away on a hormone-induced whim wasn’t the most pleasant feeling to have.

She stopped and turned towards the window, staring out into the darkness. Occasional street lights cast small patches of dim illumination, and her gaze focused on them. What was he doing? Was he relaxing watching the television with a bottle of beer? Had he kicked his shoes off and propped his feet up? Was he in the shower, streams of hot water cascading down his naked body?

She groaned in despair as such an image formed itself in her mind. Her imagination saw him soaping himself, his head tipped back under the spray as he washed shampoo out of his amazing hair. Strong muscles rippling under a layer of bubbled foam. Steam rising from him, and not from the heat of the water.

“Goddammit!” she ground out through clenched teeth, her frustration levels rising fast. Spinning on her heels, she went back to walking up and down the length of her lounge, tightening her arms across herself. Goddamned stunningly gorgeous man! He’d buried himself deep into her mind, settling comfortably there with no intention of moving.

She halted again, sighing deeply from the pit of her soul as she wrestled with what was going on in her head. Her head snapped round to glare in the direction of the door, then back again to the window. Back to the door. Back to the window.

“Fuck it,” she said, uncrossing her arms and striding over to the door. Sliding her feet into her flip-flops, she grabbed her keys and left the apartment, locking the door and hurrying along the dim corridor. The cool night air welcomed her as she reached ground level and stepped outside onto the sidewalk. The darkness enveloped her in a comforting embrace as she crossed the derelict road and turned towards the street where she knew he lived.

_I must be mad,_ she thought as the concrete disappeared under her hastening steps. She fought to quell the rising nervous feeling in her stomach as she turned into his avenue, the buildings looming dark and imposing above her. Her eyes lifted to each one as she passed, her nerves tugging and poking relentlessly at her as she walked.

Thranduil’s block seemed to materialise in front of her, and she stopped, hesitating. She made a conscious effort to pull herself together, and pushed the main door open before she changed her mind. His apartment wasn’t difficult to find; he’d already told her they shared the same apartment number.

One massive deep breath, and she knocked on his door.

And waited.

The door swung open, revealing Thranduil.

He was dressed in a black, V-necked t-shirt and a pair of black shorts, his long blonde hair draped over his shoulders. Ice blue eyes met hers as he rested one hand on the doorframe and crossed one ankle over the other, resting the toes of his right foot on the carpet.

Neither of them spoke.

“Did you forget something, little kitty?” he asked, after a long silence.

She gazed up at him, lost for an answer as his ice blue eyes held her immobile. Forgetting to breathe, her heart thudded like a drum in her chest.

Still he gazed down at her.

Without realising she was doing it, she moved slightly closer to him, not blinking once. Her lips parted unconsciously. His eyes dropped to her mouth, then returned to her eyes.

His free hand slid around her waist and tugged her closer, his head dipping as his mouth met hers in an open-mouthed kiss.

This wasn’t a prelude to anything, or a seduction. This was a kiss that spoke of carnal longings, needs that screamed out to be satisfied. Her arms went up around his shoulders as their tongues met in a clash of desire, battling with each other for dominance. A surge of lust shot through her, so strong, it make her knees buckle, and she tightened her arms around his neck.

She was vaguely aware of shifting as he dropped his hand from the doorframe and slammed the door closed, shoving her up against it as he devoured her. Both large hands swept up and down her body, exploring and assessing her curves as she clung to his solid frame, his weight pressing her hard against the wood.

Colours exploded behind her closed eyelids, a loud _whoosh_ ing sounded in her ears, and she felt as though the floor was tipping under her feet. No man had _ever_ done this to her with a kiss, or anything else either, for that matter. The pleasure he was causing to flood through her veins was alien to her, and she didn’t know how to cope with either the strength or the volume of it.

His hands slid under the hemline of her top, moving over her flesh and spreading heat. A deep whimper of lust sounded, and she was shocked as she realised she’d made that guttural noise. He took it as a sign of encouragement, and his hands wandered further, moving up to her shoulders and back down again. Settling on her hips, he pulled her closer against the growing hardness between them, and she wriggled against him, causing him to groan deeply at the friction.

She panted hard as he tore his mouth from hers, trailing kisses over her cheek and down her neck. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of his t-shirt, bunching the soft cloth into her fists as she fought for air. Her body felt weak, as though her bones had turned to jelly and were incapable of supporting her weight. Sensing this, he held her up as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of her neck, followed by a hot swipe of his tongue. A throaty gasp ripped from her, and she blinked hard to focus.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

“Does that feel good, my little kitty?” he whispered against her skin. “Does this make you feel good?” His hips ground against hers as his hands went up to her bra strap, which he swiftly undid.

“Yes,” she gasped. “My God…yesssss…” Words failed her as both hands moved under her bra and closed over both breasts, squeezing gently and kneading the soft flesh. A gurgled noise came from the back of her throat, and she could have sworn she felt him smile against her neck.

“Then let me give you more,” he whispered erotically as he kissed his way back up her neck. His mouth met hers again in a bruising kiss. Breaking away, he gazed down into her blue eyes. “What do you want?” his pained whisper asked her.

She held his gaze, uncertainty in her own. “I don’t know…whatever you have to give,” she answered. “What do you want?”

“Everything,” he growled, swooping down to cover her mouth with his own. His thumbs rubbed over her nipples with an agonising lack of speed or urgency, and she whimpered in frustration, pushing herself deeper into his touch. The whimper was followed immediately by a muffled howl of displeasure as his hands moved away, swallowed in his kiss. But they only shifted to the bottom of her sparkly garment, where he gripped handfuls of fabric and lifted it up. Breaking the kiss, he pulled it over her head, taking her bra with it, and tossed it to one side, bringing his mouth back to hers once more.

Hot, deep kisses followed, his hands caressing her upper body as she arched into him, her own hands finding their way under his t-shirt. Solid muscles covered in silky soft skin twitched under her exploring fingertips. Soft gasps and moans came from both of them, locked in the swirl of heat and lust that cocooned them. Talia was aware somewhere in the back of her mind that they were moving, but she was too wrapped up in what they were doing and what she was feeling to think about it.

Hot kisses down her neck again dispelled any rational thought that may or may not have entered her head, his soft lips hungrily exploring erogenous zones she didn’t even know she had. Her hands tugged impatiently at his t-shirt, yanking the garment up and off as he parted from her just long enough to remove it. Her mouth opened in a gasp as the soft light from his bedroom highlighted strong, rippling chest and stomach muscles, her hands automatically seeking out each defined line.

The edge of the bed hit her legs and they tumbled down onto the soft duvet in a bundle of entwined limbs. Thranduil’s long hair swept over her skin like kisses as he slid down her body, unzipping her black pants and sliding them down her legs. Eyes clouded with lust met hers as he crawled back up the length of her, holding her prisoner as he dropped kisses up her legs, warm hands following closely behind in sweeping touches and squeezing fingers.

“I need to taste you,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose in between her thighs. “I need to lick you, little kitty.”

His erotic words sent shivers through her, and she compliantly lifted her hips as he used the index fingers on both hands to lower her underwear, throwing the soft fabric over his shoulder to the floor somewhere. Strong hands parted her thighs, and he sucked in a deep breath as his gaze lowered to her core, his nostrils flaring.

He swiped his hair over one shoulder as he lowered himself onto his elbows, leaning forwards to flick his tongue gently over her. She gasped and jerked under the intimate touch, her eyes closing automatically. He licked her again, with a little more pressure, sliding his tongue around her clitoris and down between her folds.

“Oh my…so turned on already,” he murmered, with another lick. “And we’ve hardly even started.”

Her hips shot up off the bed as she felt a finger slide inside her, gently probing and exploring her warmth as he hummed with satisfaction. One finger became two, twisting and turning as he found exactly where her sensitive spot was within a second or two. Her hands gripped his shoulders as she lifted her knees, opening herself wider to him and curling her toes against the softness of the duvet.

Sex had never felt like this, ever. She’d never felt like liquid in _anybody’s_ hands, never melted under _anybody’s_ kiss. And yet he’d managed to turn her upside down and inside out within five minutes. A garbled exclamation sounded as he twisted his tongue around her clit, rubbing and teasing the tender bundle of nerves that throbbed under his touch. Her hands shot to his hair, twisting into the long lengths and holding him against her.

“I’m going to make you purr, my little kitty,” he whispered, blowing cool air over her as he glanced up at her. Her chest was heaving as she panted and gasped, her body covered in an alluring pink flush. Her eyes were closed, her head tossing restlessly from one side to the other. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and he grinned as he went to the task at hand. His fingers probed deeper, emerging from her body covered in the evidence of her arousal, only to plunge even deeper.

Breathless pleas drifted past him as he rubbed his tongue over her, savouring both her taste and the state she was in. He firmly ignored the throbbing, pulsating hardness that twitched against his abdomen, desperate for release, and focused solely on the writhing Goddess before him who was beginning to pant harder in between various swear-words and broken pleading. Tilting his head slightly, he increased the pressure of his tongue, and she bucked against him as her body reacted. The heat in the room was becoming unbearable, as both found themselves caught in a maelstrom of desire and lust.

“Thranduil, I can’t take any more!” she whimpered, her body reacting in ways that she’d never experienced in her life. “Please…”

Giving in to both her helpless begging and his own burning needs, he removed his fingers, gave her one final lick and crawled back up her body, claiming her mouth in a deep, sensual kiss as he pressed against her, his shorts having been kicked off the bottom of the bed somewhere. Her legs lifted and crossed over his back as he pushed forwards, sliding into her inch by inch with agonising slowness. She pulled back from his kiss and threw her head back with a loud groan as he filled her, his length and thickness stretching her beyond what she would have thought she was capable of.

Soft lips pressed little butterfly kisses along her cheek towards her ear. “Are you alright, little kitty?” he whispered.

She nodded, swallowing. “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes…oh God…you feel so _good…_ ”

His mouth curled in a tender smile as his hips started to slowly rock into her, each thrust bringing her closer to where she wanted to be; _needed_ to be. He gripped her hands and twisted his fingers through hers in a crushing grip, his nostrils flaring as he picked up his pace. Her body tightened as he moved, telling him that she was close, and he plunged deeper with each stroke. She tightened her fingers through his even further, chasing his mouth, desperate for his kiss.

“Come for me,” he whispered against her, his tongue delving into her mouth.

She returned the intimate gesture, feeling every muscle and nerve ending tense in preparation for an explosion.

And she _did_ explode.

She bucked hard against him, tearing her mouth away from his with a scream that echoed around the room as her body tore itself apart in release. Violent spasms ripped through her from head to foot, and he released his hold on her hands to wrap his arms tightly around her. He lowered his head to press his face against her neck, breathing harshly as he pounded deep into her orgasm, her clenching body increasing his pleasure as her inner muscles constricted tightly around him.

“I need to come,” he ground out, between clenched teeth. “Oh God…I need to come…where…”

“I’m protected,” she managed to tell him, and his body stiffened in her arms as she spoke. A hot blast of fluid immediately flooded her insides, strong tremors rippling through his body as he struggled to hold his weight from crushing her. His orgasm seemed to go on and on, wave after wave of pleasure so intense, it bordered on pain.

His arms eventually gave way and he collapsed, finding just enough strength from somewhere to roll over marginally so he didn’t crush her. They lay together, still joined, a mess of arms, legs, panting breathing, sweat, and entangled hair.

The minutes rolled past.

Talia felt dizzy as he finally lifted his upper body from her, keeping his arms around her and pulling her up. Sitting back on his knees, he took her with him so she sat astride his thighs, his member still buried deep inside her. Tender hands swept her hair away from her face, soft lips placed gentle kisses on her cheeks and her mouth.

“Are you ok?” he asked softly, settling his hands on her hips.

She nodded, still out of breath. “I think so,” she said, with a slight laugh. “Yeah…I think so.”

He smiled, kissing her again. “Good.”

He pulled her closer against his chest, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she felt a few kisses on her shoulder, and his arms crossed at her waist.

Neither of them moved for a few minutes.

“Will you stay tonight?” he asked eventually, breaking the peaceful silence.

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes, her own holding a sleepy, satisfied look. “If you want me to,” she replied.

“Of course I do,” he told her. “I would not have asked, otherwise.”

She lifted one eyebrow briefly. “Manners, maybe?”

He snorted softly. “While I do possess manners, they were not prevalent in that particular question,” he said. “I want you to stay tonight. Stay with me.”

She smiled. “I’ll stay.”

*****

The smell of coffee brought Talia slowly to a conscious state. She wrinkled her nose and opened her eyes, blinking groggily a few times.

Thranduil lay on his side facing her, a cup balanced between them. “I made you a coffee,” he said with a smile. “Good morning.”

“Mmm…good morning,” she murmered, her voice thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Day time,” he replied, and handed her the cup as she rolled towards him. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log,” she replied, taking a sip. “Damn…this is gorgeous.”

He smiled again. “It’s just after seven,” he told her. “I have to be at the precinct by half past nine; I have court this afternoon.” He sipped his own coffee after reaching around and lifting it from the bedside unit behind him. “What do you have planned for today?”

She yawned. “Sorry. I’m going into The Shire this afternoon to get a decent feel of the place, and go over the accounts, the ordering, and what have you,” she replied. “My first official shift is tomorrow, so I want to get a head start, for lack of a better phrase.”

He nodded as he drank. “I understand. It makes sense to find your feet before you jump in.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said with a lazy smile as she settled back against the feather pillows.

“Would you like to meet up tonight, have something to eat?” he asked, watching her.

She stared into his eyes.

“Talia, if you think that last night was a quick fuck to scratch an itch, you are sorely mistaken,” he said softly. “I do not jump headfirst into casual relationships. If that was what you were looking for, then tell me now, before this goes any further.”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’m looking for,” she admitted. “But I don’t normally do anything like what we did last night, never so quickly off the bat. I don’t do casual flings or sporadic sex with any Tom, Dick, or Harry.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said.

She held his gaze. “I think I’d like to see where this goes,” she said quietly, unsure of the territory she was in, both with him and her own feelings.

He smiled. “Good. Because so would I,” he said, leaning towards her and brushing his mouth over hers. “So how about dinner tonight? I can cook.”

Her eyebrows rose briefly in surprise. “In that case, yes,” she said with a short laugh. “Good-looking, great in bed, _and_ can cook? Say no more. I’ll be here.”

He tipped his head back and laughed, her gaze drawn to his throat. Memories of kissing and licking it surfaced from the previous night in his arms.

“What would you say to joining me for a quick shower?” he suggested. His ice blue eyes sparkled.

“I’d say…clear a path, people!” she yelled, leaping out of the bed with her cup.

He laughed heartily and shook his head as he rolled out of his side.

It was going to be a good day.


	5. Chapter 5

** CHAPTER FIVE **

****

“That’s disgusting,” Bard remarked with a chuckle as he turned away and lifted a pile of documents from his desk.

“You are only jealous because you can’t do it!” Fili shot back, cracking each knuckle joint at speed.

Thranduil frowned as he checked his weapon. “You’ll have trouble with your joints later in life the way you’re acting,” he said dryly.

“Like you, old man?” the smaller man quipped, his grin fading as the blonde glared at him.

“I have five calendar years on you, but a lifetime of experience more than you,” he told him. “I’ve forgotten more than you’re likely to ever absorb into that concrete block you call a brain.”

Balin snorted, disappearing behind a partition and making himself look busy.

“What time do we need to be at the courthouse?” Bard asked, swiping his coffee before Kili made a grab for it on his way past, the two exchanging warning looks.

“Half past one,” Thranduil replied. “And I’m placing a bet right now that Bolg is remanded pending further investigation.”

His partner laughed. “I’d hold off betting your paycheck until we’re at least twenty minutes into proceedings,” he said.

*****

Somewhere in the city, a cell phone rang.

“Hey.”

“The target is Thranduil Oropherion. Take care of it.”

A long silence.

“Done.”

The call ended.

*****

“Just don’t wrap his game in that ridiculous gift-wrapping paper everybody seems to be buying by the truckload,” Bard warned as he stepped out of the car. “I swear, that damned cartoon creation is driving me to distraction. I’d like to tighten my hands around the throat of the idiot who invented the thing.”

Thranduil laughed, clicking the remote locking as he flipped his hair over one shoulder. “These fads always take over for a while,” he remarked. “But they pass soon enough; you know that. Look what we were into at that age.”

“You don’t know the _half_ of it,” his friend spat. “My kids have the duvet covers, the curtains, the damned cereal bowls. It’s driving me out of my mind, everywhere I look I see this goddamned blue head grinning at me. I think I’m going mad.”

“You were mad to begin with,” he snorted, crossing over to the courthouse. “Come on, step on it, or we’ll be late.”

Up on a flat rooftop a few hundred yards away, an unseen figure lay stomach-down on the tiles, the upper body weight resting on their elbows. One eye closed as the other focused through the magnifying scope, picking up the flash of long blonde hair in the bright sunlight. A finger twitched restlessly on the trigger of the rifle. Slow, steady breathing helped maintain a slow heartbeat.

“I think I might tag along tonight to The Shire, grab a beer,” Bard decided as he stepped off the sidewalk. “I’m curious to meet this woman you’re having dinner with… _again._ For the second night in a row,” he added pointedly.

“Shut up,” Thranduil said. “I’m not taking you. You’re just being nosey. I’m not introducing you, you imbecile.”

“Ha! Feeling a little insecure around someone as good-looking and charismatic as myself?” he taunted him.

“Never in a million y-“ Thranduil broke off, spinning round as a volley of screams rang in his ears.

A burly figure was bearing down on him at speed, one of Bolg’s associates. The man moved like lightning, tackling him and the pair crashed onto the concrete beneath them with a hefty thud. Thranduil had already spotted the blade in his hand, reacted instinctively and punched upwards, catching him on the underside of his jaw and tipping his head back.

He gasped in shock as a red hole appeared in the man’s forehead, and his weight crashed fully onto him.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Bard roared, grabbing him and hauling him off his partner. “What the fuck was that?! What happened? Are you alright?”

Thranduil rolled over and leapt to his feet, his head twisting and turning as he tried to locate the shooter. “Did you see that?” he demanded. “Where the hell did that shot come from?!”

Bard looked up from examining the body that lay sprawled on the sidewalk. “No. All I saw was a blur as you two fell, and the next thing this thug’s out of the game,” he said. “Who took him out?”

“The hell if I know,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he scanned his surroundings, ignoring the uniformed officers that charged down the steps from the courthouse and the screams that echoed around him. His hunter senses were on full alert; somebody, somewhere had taken out his attacker. “Somebody’s out there.” He turned to the officers. “Secure this area, keep the courthouse on lockdown,” he ordered. “Sweep the buildings. I want the shooter.”

“Yes, sir,” one of them responded, and they split and took off on his command.

Light brown eyes met his in a concerned look. “What if that shot was meant for you?” he asked quietly, wiping his hands on the front of his pants and rising to his feet.

Thranduil’s jaw tightened. “It wasn’t. It hit home with spot-on accuracy,” he said. “It wasn’t meant for me.”

“Then you, my friend, have a guardian Angel somewhere,” he told him.

Both men turned as Thorin flew out of the building and down the steps towards them, panic on his face.

“Better de-brief Oakenshield,” Thranduil sighed, and began traipsing up towards him.

*****

The Shire was busy, and a volley of noise assaulted Thranduil’s ears as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. Familiar smells drifted towards him, taking him back through time to when the cops used to clock off their shift and go there for a few beers and some shop talk to relax. The tables were full, and streams of people waited at the bar as the staff hurried to serve them. His eyes swept the large area, his height giving him an added advantage. A small smile curved his mouth as it settled on Talia’s long black hair. It had been a long, tiring day, and he looked forward to spending the evening with her.

People parted to let him pass as he made his way towards her, stepping aside or pulling their seats closer to their tables to give him room.

She looked up as he approached her, her face lighting up in a bright smile, which dimmed immediately. “What happened?” she gasped, getting up from the seat she’d occupied.

A graze marred his right cheek, from where he’d collided with the sidewalk earlier that day.

“It’s nothing,” he said, gently removing her hand as she lifted it to touch his face.

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” she said, concern in her deep blue eyes. “What happened?”

“A slight altercation,” he sighed.

Her eyebrows lifted as she waited for a further explanation. “And..?”

He rolled his eyes. “Somebody attacked me as I was going into court to give evidence this afternoon,” he said.

She gasped. “Oh my God,” she whispered, grabbing both his hands in hers. “Are you ok?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’m fine.”

She stared up at him, her worry clear in her eyes. “Let’s get out of here,” she whispered. “Come back to my place. I’ll cook.”

He laughed, squeezing her fingers. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s merely a graze, nothing more. I can still cook. I can still function.”

A blast of heat spiked through her at his words.

His laughter faded as her pupils dilated, and he instinctively knew what was going through her mind. “Yes…I can still do most things,” he said in a whisper, lowering his head and touching his lips to hers. “And I can prove it, too.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath as she shook her head quickly to clear it. “Just give me a minute to clear my stuff away, and we can get going,” she said, her voice sounding alien to her ears. “I won’t be long.”

“Take your time,” he smiled, releasing her hands.

Her eyes held his for a second or two before she turned and gathered a pile of folders from the table she’d been sitting at, taking them over to the bar and handing them to one of the girls. She spoke a few words, nodded, and turned back towards him. “I’m all set, let’s go,” she said.

He took her hand in his, leading her back through the customers towards the door. She came to a halt as they stepped outside, and he turned questioningly. She tugged hard on his hand, pulling him towards her and crushing her mouth up against his, sliding her free hand up around his neck. “You could have been hurt,” she whispered as she pulled back a little to look at him. “You could have been seriously hurt.”

His eyes searched hers. “But I was not,” he answered, his tone soft. “I’m alright, I promise. This comes with the job – it isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last. It’s not worth thinking about, believe me.” His free hand combed through her hair, his eyes following the movement before going back to hers. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I’m still here doing it.”

His arms folded around her as she leaned her weight against him, pressing her face against his upper chest. Her worry touched a part of his heart he’d long thought dead, her concern moving him.

“Please don’t upset yourself, little kitty,” he said softly, speaking into her hair as he lowered his head closer to hers. “This is a fact of life for cops, and it’s always been like that. Nothing will happen to me, I promise.”

“You can’t promise that,” she said, her words muffled. “Anything could happen, at any time. Nothing’s guaranteed, Thranduil. Nothing.”

“We’re going to have a relaxing evening together, and that _is_ something I’m guaranteeing,” he told her. “Stop worrying…please. I’m fine.”

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes for a few moments, looking for what, he didn’t know.

“Come on. Let’s go,” she said. “Take me home. Mine or yours, I’m not fussed.”

“I have a fridge load of groceries at mine, so shall we head there?” he suggested as they began walking towards his car. “If you’re unsettled, you can help me make our meal. How’s that?”

She nodded, smiling up at him. “I can live with that,” she said.

*****

The couple worked comfortably together in Thranduil’s state-of-the-art kitchen, preparing spaghetti bolognese and shifting effortlessly around one another as they worked. The atmosphere was comfortable, with soft music playing in the background as they shared a glass of wine while cooking their meal.

Talia realised that Thranduil was a very touchy-feely person; he constantly touched her shoulder as he passed her, placed a hand on her waist as she moved in front of him, pressed soft kisses to her neck as he went behind her.

She loved it.

Every time he touched her, tingles of electricity sparked through her bloodstream, creating pleasurable little sensations in her abdomen. There was no grabbing or mauling, just intimate little contacts here and there, strengthening the connection between them.

After they’d eaten, he insisted they leave the dishes, and instead curled up together on the sofa watching the tv. She snuggled up with her head on his chest, listening to the strong rhythm of his heartbeat, toying with the ends of his hair. He ran a hand absent-mindedly up and down her back, and her thoughts turned to what was happening between them.

What the _hell_ had he done to her? He’d come into her life only days previously, and already she’d developed a stronger attachment to him than with anybody else in her entire life.

That hadn’t been part of her plan.

She didn’t want strong feelings, she didn’t want the inevitable heartache and pain that would follow. Every relationship she’d had had been a disaster, and this one would undoubtedly prove no different. He was a cop, for a start, and the dangers that followed him were astronomical. Police officers every day were losing their lives in the line of duty, and her heart twisted painfully as she acknowledged this. The chances of her heart being broken were pretty much guaranteed, and she’d known this before she slept with him.

But he’d been irresistible to her, drawing her like a moth to a flame. She was powerless to stop it, to dig her heels in or turn her back. A single glance from those ice blue eyes was enough to have her running towards him, a smile enough to make her fall to her knees. A cheeky wink dissolved her brain cells in one fell swoop, and a simple brush of his hand against her rendered her speechless and unable to string words together.

Did he know what he did to her?

Probably not. But he had that power, and she wasn’t comfortable with it. She wanted to be in control – not of him, but of her feelings and how deeply she became involved. That control had been flushed down the nearest toilet the first time he’d smiled at her.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his deep voice floating around her like velvet caresses.

She sighed softly as she tilted her head to look up at him, finding his intense eyes watching her. She smiled. “Just how much I’m enjoying this,” she murmered.

He blinked slowly, giving her the feeling that he could see inside her soul. “I’m enjoying it too. It’s just what I need after today,” he said, his gaze sweeping back towards the television. “I’m more relaxed now than I’ve been in a long time. Perhaps it’s because you’re here.”

She pressed a kiss to his throat. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe you’re so emotionally drained, you would’ve relaxed anyway.”

“I doubt it,” he said. “What about you? Are you nervous about starting work in The Shire tomorrow?”

“Nope,” she answered. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. And I met with most of the staff today – they seem an alright bunch. One or two wasters, but that’ll be fixed soon enough. No – I’m quite looking forward to it.”

“Are you working on Saturday?” he questioned.

She shook her head.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, drawing her gaze. “Bard, my partner, is having a get-together for his son’s birthday,” he said. “Would you like to be my plus one?”

She sat upright. “Actually…yeah…I think I’d like that,” she said. “What do I wear? What do I take?”

“Whatever you are comfortable in,” he replied. “Jeans and sneakers are fine. And you don’t have to take anything. I’ve already arranged for his gift. You just have to turn up with me, that’s all.”

“I can do that,” she murmered, lost in his eyes.

His narrowed marginally, watching her blue irises darken in colour and her pupils dilate. His sharp hearing picked up her elevated breathing. “You want me,” he whispered.

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Your body is aching to explode in my arms,” he said, still in his enticing, intoxicating whisper.

Heat shafted through her. “Yes.”

“You are wet already.”

Her cheeks blushed slightly, and he smirked, knowing he was right. Leaning towards her, his soft lips traced a kiss lighter than air over hers, his tongue darting out to trace her lower lip. She inhaled sharply as she felt the pang of longing spike between her legs.

His mouth moved over her jaw and down her neck, not kissing her, just touching her skin in a touch so slight, she wasn’t sure if he was actually touching her at all. The strap of her vest top sliding down her arm proved that he was indeed touching her.

“I need to bury myself deep inside you,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “I need to feel your legs tighten around me, your nails scratching my back, your pussy clenching so tightly around me…”

She gasped at both his choice of words, and the stab of lust that jerked her body. Her top went lower still, exposing her bra and the swell of her breast.

“I’m going to make you scream so hard, you’ll wake the next block,” he continued. A warm hand closed over her breast and squeezed gently. She groaned and pushed further into his hand, her nipple hardening under his touch. He rewarded her with a single flick of his thumb over it, his lips moving down towards it. Peeling the cup of her bra down, his mouth closed over her nipple, sucking in a pulsating rhythm. Her hands immediately gripped handfuls of his hair as she pushed against him.

Without breaking his connection to her, he eased his hands around her waist and carefully lifted her to sit astride his thighs, crossing his arms at her back once she was settled into position. Her hips rocked against his as she tried to find friction against the hard swelling she could feel there. She whimpered as his lips finally left her nipple, and he lifted his head to crush her mouth with his.

He budged to the edge of the couch, his hands gripping her upper thighs as he rose to his feet and carried her across the floor, still kissing her. The bedroom door was kicked closed as he took her inside, closing out the rest of the world.


	6. Chapter 6

** CHAPTER SIX **

****

“Thranduil! Glad you’re here,” Bard yelled, weaving his way between the entourage of youths scattered around his massive yard. “How you doing, man?” He slapped the blonde’s back, grinning.

“I’m alright,” he replied, returning his grin. “This is Talia. Talia, this reprobate is Bard Bowman, my partner and general pain in the arse.”

She laughed, taking the hand offered to her in a firm handshake. “Pleased to meet you, Bard,” she said.

“Likewise,” he replied. “And pay absolutely _no_ attention to whatever this bum has told you about me. I guarantee it’s all lies anyway.”

Beside her, Thranduil snorted good-naturedly. “You think I send my time talking about _you?_ In your wildest dreams.”

“Ha. You’d be hard-pushed to find anything more interesting to talk about,” Bard quipped. “Come on, there’s enough food in the kitchen to feed the five hundred thousand, and Bain’s in there with a gang of females.”

“Starting young, is he?” his partner said with a smirk.

“Hey, enough of that nonsense,” he warned, pointing at him. “My child is far too young to be thinking along the lines of your twisted, freak mind.”

Thranduil tipped his head back and laughed heartily. “Don’t lie to yourself,” he said. “The boy has hormones that are off the chart at his age. If he hasn’t already, I promise you he’ll have a girlfriend by the end of the night.”

“See what you’ve landed yourself with?” Bard said dryly to Talia. “And to think I have to spend twelve hour shifts with this lunatic.”

 _Lucky you,_ she thought. “I’m sure you give as good as you get,” she replied.

“And a _lot_ more,” he said with a conspiratorial grin. “Come on, grab a bite to eat before the kids scoff the lot.”

She linked her arm through Thranduil’s, matching his stride as he led her into the house.

The back door had taken them directly into the kitchen, which was large enough to hold a ball in. Gleaming worktops ran the length of the room, with pots of utensils placed strategically here and there. Units polished to a dazzling gleam were mounted on the walls. A huge fridge with stickers and kids’ drawings sat in one corner. A pine table with bench-style seats dominated the room, over which hung a light fitting styled to look like a candelabra.

“Wow, this is gorgeous,” she exclaimed.

“He needs a kitchen this size for the amount of times he’s come off duty and found twenty seven kids taking the place over,” he replied. “At least now he has Petra to help him keep some sort of control over how untidy the place gets.”

“How many children does he have?” she asked.

He released her arm to open the fridge, taking out two cans of coke and handing one to her. “Three. One son and two daughters, Tilda and Sigrid. They’re around here somewhere…I assume. Finding them is another matter, though.”

A squealing made them both turn towards the open patio doors, and he groaned.

“Bofur, Bombur, Dwalin, and Thorin must be here already,” he said. “My work colleagues. They have the notion that they’re Led Zepplin reborn.”

“They play?” she asked, turning to him with a look of astonishment. “You don’t?”

He shook his head as he popped his can open and took a healthy swig. “Do you?”

“No. But I can sing,” she told him. “I haven’t done it in a long time, but I can.”

He eyed her, intrigued. “I’d like to hear you,” he murmered eventually, and she blushed.

“I might,” she said. “No promises though.”

“Detective Oropherion…what an absolute _delight_ to have you amongst us,” a cheery voice quipped. A man smaller than Talia emerged, grinning from ear to ear.

“Fili…good to see you,” Thranduil replied with a grin, shaking his hand. “Talia, this is Fili, one of the detectives in my unit. Fili, this gorgeous lady is Talia.”

“Wow…truly a beauty, if I may say so,” the newcomer said with a little bow and a mischievous grin. “Tell me,” he said in a stage whisper. “Are you serious about him? Or am I in with a chance?”

“Piss off, short-arse,” Thranduil snorted with a laugh. “Go and find someone closer to your height.”

Talia couldn’t stop her laughter bubbling free. “Oh my God, that’s terrible!” she said, wiping her eyes.

He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Doesn’t your heart just break for me, having to tolerate him every day?” Fili said. “I don’t get paid enough to put up with his abuse.”

“Pay him no attention, sweetheart,” Thranduil told her. “Unfortunately, you might have to tolerate such nonsense from the others I work with too. I apologise in advance.”

Her insides flooded with heat at his endearment, and she smiled. “I can handle anything they throw,” she assured him. She glanced around. “Where’s the birthday boy?”

“He’d better not be cosying up with any girls,” Bard replied, appearing with one of his daughters in tow. “This is Sigrid. Sigrid, this is Talia.”

“Hi Sigrid,” she said with a grin. “How are you?”

“I’m great, how are you?” the girl answered. “Have you met everyone yet? Come on; I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

“It’s alright, Sigrid,” Thranduil said. “I’ll introduce her as we go, honey. You just enjoy yourself.”

“Has anyone seen Petra?” Bard questioned with a frown. “I swear, I can’t keep track of anyone in my own damned house these days…” He trailed off, muttering as he disappeared again.

“Welcome to my world,” Thranduil said. “Enter at your own risk.”

“I’ll take the risk,” she said, smiling up at him. Their gazes locked, and her heart missed a beat.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he murmered, slowly lowering his head and kissing her mouth.

Fili coughed to get their attention, and Thranduil reluctantly lifted his head, glaring at him.

“Uh…I think…I’ll go over here for a while,” the smaller man said, and shuffled off.

“Do that,” he muttered, reclaiming her mouth again in a deep kiss. “Mmm…d’you fancy ditching this and going somewhere quieter?”

She laughed, pushing against his chest. “As tempting as it sounds, it’d be rude to disappear,” she said.

His eyes sparkled with mischief. “Fair enough. We can always do this later.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, winking.

“And I will deliver,” he promised, sliding his arm around her waist as they went out through the patio doors back into the garden.

*****

Thranduil watched Talia, admiring how easily she mixed in with the group of rowdy, bolshy cops. Constant laughter drifted across the grass to his ears, making him smile. She’d charmed his friends no end, and had them practically eating out of her hand. They’d automatically accepted her as one of their own, with the logic that if she belonged to Thranduil, they’d take care of her.

Deep blue eyes met his as she looked over, and he smiled at her.

“She’s special, Thran,” Bard commented, appearing at his side and leaning back against the small stone wall. “And I say that because it took her less than a week to completely turn your head.”

He glanced at his partner. “Yes. She’s different,” he agreed. “There’s something…magical? about her. I can’t pinpoint what, but she has something that I’ve never seen in a woman before.”

“As long as she makes you happy.” He took a swig from his bottle of beer. “That’s all that matters.”

“She does,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking about her…I feel like a teenager again with a crush on the Prom Queen.”

Bard chuckled. “Being in love is an amazing feeling.”

He looked sharply at him. “I did not say anything about love,” he said.

“You didn’t have to. It shows, loud and clear, and from both of you.”

“Your arse.”

“No, alluring and tempting though my arse may be, that’s not it,” Bard told him. “Cupid’s been running riot with his teeny, weeny arrows from what I can see, my friend.”

“You need glasses.”

“And you need to face reality,” he shot back. “Because if this isn’t love, then I don’t know what is. Face facts, Blondie. You’ve fallen under her spell, and hard.”

Thranduil inhaled deeply through his nose as he continued to watch her. She’d gone down on her knees and was playing patty cake with Bard’s youngest daughter. Sunlight shone on her jet black hair, picking up deep blue highlights as she moved.

“Guys,” a voice said, and both men turned to see Thorin approaching them, carrying a beer bottle.

“Hey Thorin,” Bard greeted him.

“This isn’t the time or the place, but I need a word,” he said, his tone serious.

Thranduil frowned. “What’s up?”

His colleague hesitated. “I’ve had a tip-off,” he said.

Two pairs of eyes watched him expectantly.

“Thran…there’s a contract been put out on you,” he said quietly.

Thranduil tipped his head back and gazed up at the sky. “Azog?”

“I think so,” he answered. “I’m just waiting on my contact to confirm, but yes…it looks like it’s come from him. He’s as pissed as hell, man.”

Bard turned his back to the chaos unfolding in his garden. “Fucking piece of shit,” he muttered angrily. “I say we take him down first.”

“We can’t,” Thorin told him. “We’re not above the law, for Chrissakes. You know that. We need to wait until he makes a move. Besides…he’s not going to carry out the hit himself. He’ll have one of his sidekicks on it, and that’s a fair bet.”

Thranduil lowered his head and looked at him. “Any more information?” he asked.

He shook his head. “Not as yet. Like I said, I’m still waiting on more from my contact. As soon as I know anything, so will you.”

“Fuck!” Bard spat.

Thranduil’s eyes met Talia’s, who’d stopped what she was doing and was watching him. Her head tilted in silent question, but he subtly shook his head. She didn’t look convinced, and continued to watch him, sensing trouble.

“We take each day as it comes, and continue to do what we do,” he said simply. “That’s all we can do. I’m not going to hide away just because of that degenerate. I’m not bowing down to him.”

“I think you should lay low for a while,” Bard said quietly. “Just stay out of sight for the time being.”

The blonde glared at him. “Would you? No. You wouldn’t. We’ve still got to give evidence in the Brandford case, and there’s no way in hell I’m backing out of that. He’s going away, it’s _that_ simple. Azog can take a fuck to himself – he’ll get what’s coming to him sooner or later. Once his demonic offspring is on death row, he’ll realise he can’t intimidate us.”

“Bard has a point,” Thorin said.

“As do I,” the reply came. “I will not keep my head down solely because he has a screw or three loose. This discussion is over.” He shifted away from the wall and strode across the grass.

Bard and Thorin exchanged worried looks.

“What was that about?” Talia asked, getting to her feet as he approached her, her eyes on the two men behind him.

“Nothing, just work crap,” he answered.

She frowned. “Are you ok?”

“Sure,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look pretty pissed,” she told him. “And they look like they have the weight of the world on their shoulders.” She indicated his partner and his companion. Blue eyes turned back to his, searching the ice blue.

He sighed, closing his eyes as he looked away. “Just some bad news,” he said quietly. “Nothing to worry about.”

One eyebrow quirked. “Try looking at me when you lie to me,” she challenged, although her words held no trace of malice or anger.

His eyes flicked back to hers. “There’s a hit been put out on me,” he said finally.

Her eyes widened. “Tell me you’re joking,” she said in horror.

He shook his head. “No. But it won’t come to anything. I do not take chances.”

“And that is _exactly_ how you were assaulted just the other day,” she reminded him, rubbing her thumb gently across the almost-healed abrasion on his cheek. “You do take chances, Thranduil. We all do, every day. It’s unavoidable.”

“Perhaps my guardian Angel will be on my arse until this resolves itself,” he quipped.

“That’s not funny,” she said sharply. “If it wasn’t for your mysterious shooter, you might not even be here. And believe it or not, that would matter to some of us, dammit.” She turned away, her jaw clenching.

“Hey…I’m sorry,” he whispered, touching her arm. “Come here.” He tugged her closer, turning her arms wrapping his arms around her. “I do not want you to worry, sweetheart. I really don’t.”

Her hands clenched the fabric of his shirt into fists at his back. “Well I can’t help it,” she said, her voice muffled as she spoke into his shoulder. “Because believe it or not, you actually happen to mean something to me.” She turned her face into his hair, absorbing the scent of his shampoo as the silky strands caressed her cheeks.

“I’m glad about that,” he chuckled softly. “Because you’ve kind of turned my world upside down, little kitty. And I’m not sure how to deal with it.”

She swallowed as tears prickled her eyes. His arms tightened around her, feeling the shudder that rippled through her body.

“Me neither,” she whispered, snuggling as close as she could get. “I don’t like this.”

“Like what?” he asked, lifting his head and gazing down at her.

She looked back at him. “This, what I’m feeling. Whatever it is you’ve done to me,” she told him. “This…I…fuck.” She stopped, shaking her head, sliding her hands down to grip his upper arms. A few deep breaths later, she spoke again. “I didn’t expect this, any of it,” she said. Blue eyes filled with anguish met his. “It scares the hell out of me.”

He gently ran the fingers of one hand through her hair. “Would it help if I told you that I hadn’t expected this either?” he asked softly. “I do not like to be away from you, Talia, I am being honest with you. I think about you all the time. This is moving so fast, I don’t know where the hell it’s going or what’s going to happen. I have no control over this.”

She exhaled, leaning her forehead against his throat. “What are you going to do?”

His chest expanded against hers as he inhaled. “I’m going to feed you, then I’m going to take you home. I’m going to lock the door, switch off my phone, close the curtains, and strip every piece of clothing from you. Then I’m going to make love to you in such a way, that you’ll never want to leave my bed again.”

“Who said I ever wanted to leave it in the first place?” she whispered, looking up at him.

His jaw clenched at the tears in her eyes, balanced precariously on her long eyelashes, just waiting to fall. “Goddammit,” he muttered, swooping down and pressing his mouth against hers in a desperate kiss. Her lips parted beneath his, and his tongue pushed inside. Her arms lifted and wound around his neck, pulling him as close as he could get, and he went willingly.

Across the yard, Bard and Thorin watched them.

“Maybe she will be his saving grace,” Bard murmered. “Maybe she’ll be what he needs to be extra careful.”

“Either that, or she’ll distract him just enough for him to take a bullet in his back,” Thorin grunted.


	7. Chapter 7

** CHAPTER SEVEN **

****

Sirens screeched deafeningly as the car flew through the city streets, skidding round the corner and roaring along East Boulevard. Pedestrians stopped to gape, cars slammed on the brakes and stopped to let the car hammer through.

“Fuck sake Bard, where did you learn to drive, Grandmas-R-Us?!” Thranduil shouted over the noise of the protesting engine and the siren. “Flat out, man!”

“I am flat out, you lanky tree trunk!” his partner yelled back, wrestling with the steering wheel.

“Seven Four Sixteen, what’s your twenty?” a voice crackled over the radio clipped to the dash.

“Seven Four Sixteen, en route to the ten-thirty-one on Midview,” Thranduil replied into his earpiece. “If we ever get there with Grandpa at the wheel.”

The dispatcher laughed as Bard snarled in annoyance. “Keep updating please, Seven Four Sixteen. Out.”

“Did I ever tell you that you can be a royal pain in the arse?” Bard demanded.

“Always,” he replied, opening the glovebox and withdrawing a hair band. He swiftly tied his long hair back into a ponytail. “And I never tire of it.”

“I tire of you,” his partner grumbled. “Get out of the fucking wayyyy, man!” He roared out of the window at a pedestrian. “Jesus fucking Christ…”

Their speed increased as he floored the gas, hurtling through the streets.

“Up ahead, just there,” Thranduil said, pulling his gun from his waistband and checking it. “Pull in to your left.”

Bard complied, the tyres squealing in protest as he made a turn like Tron and shot into a space, slamming the brakes on. Both of them flew out of the vehicle before it had fully halted, crouching low as they ran towards abandoned vans and cars left outside the bank building.

Shots could be heard coming from inside the bank, and both men exchanged looks as they ducked down behind a transfer van.

“Take the shooters out, get whoever’s inside to safety,” Thranduil said, his eyes on the door. “Drop the other fuckers if you have to. They’re using excessive force; we do likewise.”

“Agreed,” Bard said, peering around the front bumper. “I have one in my line of sight, Thran. I’m going to take him.”

“Be careful,” he warned.

“As always.” Bard took aim and pulled his trigger, and a body dropped out of sight behind the first floor window. Thranduil used his shot as cover and flew over to the door, flattening himself against the wall at the side. He caught Bard’s eye and nodded, then fired a couple of shots inside towards the ceiling for cover fire. By the time he stopped, his partner was at his side.

“You go right, I’ll go left,” Bard said.

Thranduil nodded silently, creeping round the door. The building had fallen silent, and he wondered if his partner had taken down the only shooter there. His feet made no noise as he crept further into the building, keeping as flat against the wall as he could. The only sound he could hear was the distant wail of sirens as other officers responded.

He slowly placed one foot on the bottom marble step, his gun held out before him with both hands locked around the grip, his gaze fixed at the top of the steps. He could see Bard in his peripheral vision mirroring his movements as he slowly ascended the other set of stairs, which met on a carpeted hallway on the upper floor. Step by step they moved in synchronised paces, gradually reaching the first floor.

They both looked past each other, down the long hallway on either side of them, which was desolate. Bard silently took one hand from his weapon and pointed down the corridor to his left, and Thranduil nodded, indicating he would take the one to his own right.

Partway along the carpet, both froze as a scream echoed out of one of the offices, followed by a gunshot.

_Shit!_

Bard abandoned his section of the hallway and sprinted over towards Thranduil, who burst into the office the shot had sounded from.

“Police! Drop your weapon and get your hands up!” he roared, his gun trained on two figures dressed head-to-foot in black, wearing ski masks. “Move!”

The room was deathly silent.

Bank staff huddled together on the floor to one side, their terrified gazes flicking between the blonde with the gun and the two robbers. Each one of them wondered who would react first.

“Drop your weapons!” he roared again.

“Fuck you,” one of them screamed, turning his shotgun towards him.

Thranduil fired his gun, and the robber staggered backwards with the bullet’s impact as his weapon crashed to the floor. At the same time, his partner elbowed the glass window, shattering it, and leapt through it.

“Goddammit!” Bard yelled, turning and tearing back down the stairs.

Thranduil stepped cautiously over to his suspect, kicking the weapon further away from him across the floor, and dropped to his haunches, checking for a carotid pulse.

Nothing.

“Are there any more in here?” he asked, turning his head to the workers on the floor.

“No, there was only three of them,” an elderly man replied. His face was ashen with shock, and Thranduil’s heart went out to him.

“Please remain here while we secure the building,” he said as gently as he could. “For your own safety.”

A few heads nodded, everybody stunned as they absorbed what had happened.

He rose to his feet and followed in the direction his partner had gone, taking the steps three at a time as he bounded down them. His head whipped to his left and right as he emerged onto the sidewalk outside, frantically searching for Bard.

“Thran! He’s carjacked a green and blue vehicle heading down towards Southport!” his partner yelled, reloading his weapon. “I’ll take the car - try to cut him off!”

Thranduil took off at a sprint, tearing off through the crowds that had congregated. He shot down a side alley and cut between the tall buildings. He burst out in a busy street, traffic flowing in all directions. A green and blue car caught his eye, and he took off towards it. Cars all around him screeched to avoid him, and horns blasted angrily as he sprinted onto the road, his sole focus on stopping the robber.

The stolen car skidded round in a one-eighty, turning so that it faced him. His heart thumped erratically as it sped towards him, and he could make out even a distance the gun raised to point at him.

Out of nowhere, a silver car flew past him in a blur, the brake lights flashing red as it drew almost level with the oncoming car. An almighty boom sounded as a shot was fired and glass shattered, the stolen car careening out of control. It crashed at speed into a parked car, flipping over as it took off. A gloved and covered hand and arm appeared through the lowered window of the silver car, and two shots were fired.

The bullets struck the fuel tank, and the vehicle exploded in mid-air, the force of the blast sending Thranduil flat on his back as debris shot in all directions.

The silver car took off with a screech, leaving black tread marks on the road surface.

“Bard!” he roared into his earpiece. “Silver car, Ohio plate, heading eastward on Fourth! Catch it!”

“On it,” his partner answered. “Are you ok?”

He slowly sat up, rolling his shoulders. “Yes. I’ll be alright,” he said. “Son of a bitch…”

A cacophony of racket sounded as Bard communicated with officers dealing with the foiled bank heist, and called for backup in pursuing the silver car. He cursed angrily as he ripped his earpiece out and threw it on the ground, his head pounding with both the noise and the impact of crashing onto the road surface. Lowering his head, he tugged the band off his ponytail, freeing his hair and running a hand through it.

 _What a mess,_ he thought, as he remained sitting in the middle of the road, surveying the carnage around him. _What a fucking mess._

*****

It seemed like the whole department had descended on Thranduil’s apartment as night had fallen over the city. Everywhere he looked, cops were crowded on the couch, huddled into corners, and Fili and Kili were even sitting up on the kitchen worktop as there was no floor space. Bombur, Dwalin, Bofur, Oin, and Thorin were in a heated argument in the hallway that led from the living area to the bathroom, their voices getting louder by the minute.

“Guys…please,” he said, his head still pounding.

“Sorry Thran,” Dwalin apologised.

“We were just saying the damned helicopter should have been airborne long before it actually was,” Thorin told him. “We would’ve caught your shooter as he abandoned the vehicle, as opposed to finding a burned-out wreck instead.”

He shook his head, past caring. All he wanted was Talia’s arms around him, and she was still at work in The Shire.

“The Mayor is going fucking _apeshit_ over the damage caused with that car exploding like that,” Kili said, tipping his beer bottle in Thorin’s direction. “The blast took out the windows of several stores.”

His uncle snorted. “Like he should be giving a rat’s ass about goddamned windows,” he retorted. “I’m more concerned with what the hell’s going on behind all this crap.”

Balin nodded sombrely. “Yes. That’s twice somebody has been looking out for you, Thranduil. That’s no accident.”

He swiped his car keys from the coffee table. “I’m going to pick up Talia,” he muttered, cutting through his colleagues.

“Are you ok to drive?” Bard called out, concern in his voice.

He waved him off as he left his apartment, closing the door and leaning against it with a deep sigh. Pulling himself together, he headed downstairs and out to his car.

Within twenty minutes, he was parking in front of The Shire. Melodic music greeted him as he climbed out, closing the door and going around the car to the bar. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside and immediately felt like he was being cocooned in a fluffy, warm blanket.

_“What's she like when she turns around to kiss you goodnight?_

_When she wakes up in the morning by your side? What's she like?”_

His gaze picked out the singer.

Talia was seated on a bar stool on a small raised stage, her eyes closed, singing her heart out to the beautiful music provided by the live band.

_“What's she like? The yellow moon or the deep blue of the sea?_

_Do you feel the same way you did when it was me? What's she like?”_

He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest, just watching her. She was completely absorbed in her song, totally closed off to those around her.

_“Oh I've been holding on, I've been holding on for far too long_

_I've been holding on, I've been holding on much too long.”_

Her voice flowed through him like silk. She began to sway from side to side as the drum beat took hold.

_“What's she like when you're making love and stars are in her eyes?_

_When you're looking for the answers in her smile? What's she like?”_

He took a deep breath.

This woman was getting under his skin, deeper and deeper every day.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

She opened her eyes, smiling at the guitarist who stood a few feet away from her, and looked out over the patrons of the darkened bar.

_“So what's she like when she turns to you, when push comes to shove?_

_When she whispers in your ear that she's in love? What's she like?”_

Her eyes met Thranduil’s, her smile widening. He swallowed, the sound of her singing about love hitting him in his solar plexus.

He was in love with her.

He needed her.

His heart pounded harder.

Her clear voice rang out across the crowded bar, eventually fading as she wound the song down. Thunderous applause reverberated off the walls as the customers rose to their feet, clapping, whistling, and cheering.

She slid off the stool, giving the crowd a slight bow. The blush sprinkled over her cheeks was evident as she grinned, stepping down off the stage and making her way through towards him.

He unfolded his arms and leaned away from the wall, holding both hands out. “That was absolutely beautiful,” he said, pulling her close as she neared him. “Just absolutely beautiful.” He lowered his mouth to touch hers, his kiss soft and sweet as his warm lips rubbed over hers.

“Mmm…thankyou,” she said, looking up at him. “That’s the first I’ve done anything in public for a _long_ time; I was a bit nervous.”

He released one hand and ran his fingers through her hair. “You were perfect,” he told her. “You have a fantastic voice. I rather wish to hear more.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”

“Yes. But maybe another night, sweetheart. It’s been a really long, hard day, and right now my apartment is being overrun by my colleagues,” he said. “I had to get out and get some air.”

She frowned slightly. “Is everything alright?” she asked. “Why is everybody at yours?”

“Just crap at work,” he said with a weary sigh. “Come on. I’ll take you home. Or somewhere quiet. I don’t know if I can stomach the noise in my apartment right now.”

“That’s ok, we’ll go to mine,” she said. “Are you sure you’re ok? You’re paler than normal.”

“Just a headache,” he replied, holding the door open for her.

“You know what they say is the best cure for a headache,” she said over her shoulder.

“I am not entirely sure one orgasm would be enough to clear it,” he said, his voice low and seductive as he fell in step beside her, twisting his fingers through hers.

“Then in that case, I’ll have to make sure you come more than once,” she whispered. “I’ll have to make you come over and over and over…”

He slammed her back against his car, pinning her against the bodywork as he ground his mouth against hers. “Do not tease me, you incorrigible wench,” he muttered.

“I don’t tease,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I aim to see it through.”

His hands swept over her curves as he plundered her mouth, his tongue demanding refuge within. Gripping her hips, he pushed his against her, hard, and she whimpered in response.

“How quick can we get to my place?” she panted, pulling back a little.

Diving for her neck, his reply was lost against her flesh as he bit her.

She laughed, winding her hands through his hair. “Speak up, Blondie. I couldn’t understand a word you said!”

“I said ‘fuck your place – we’ll park up somewhere’,” he repeated, lifting his head slightly.

A laugh gurgled up as his eyes stared down into hers.

“Let’s find somewhere quiet,” she said, tugging him down for another kiss. “Let me take you to Heaven. Again and again and again…”


	8. Chapter 8

** CHAPTER EIGHT **

****

Three months passed.

Thranduil and Talia were inseparable, spending every available moment with one another. She texted him at work, he picked her up after her shifts from The Shire. They ate together, showered together, spent nights in bed together. The bond between them was growing in strength at an astronomical rate, and they both knew that they weren’t the same when apart from each other.

The chaos in the unit at the precinct continued.

Two more attempts were made on his life, but both times disaster was averted at the hands of his mystery shooter. His frustration was through the roof; he was desperate to find his identity and find out what the hell was going on. His team had accepted that he had an avenging Angel and often joked about it, much to his annoyance.

He reasoned that it was no laughing matter. Somebody out there was watching his every move, and removing obstacles intending to harm him.

Dimitrius Bolg had been remanded in custody in a secure prison, and had been frantically going through attorney after attorney as he compiled a defence team. His lawyers tended to vanish off the face of the earth if their suggestions weren’t met with gratitude, with no-one bothering to question where they’d disappeared to.

Some things didn’t need to be known.

Cycnus Azog stayed silently in the background, but Thranduil knew he still remained a viable threat. Sooner or later, someone was going to get too close in their attempt on his life, but until then, he could do nothing to pin the blame on the crime lord. Bard and Thorin shared the concern that one day the mystery shooter wouldn’t be there, and Thranduil could ultimately pay the price with his life. Thranduil’s own concern was for Talia’s safety, with the thought that if Azog lost his patience he might turn his attention to her.

She waved off his concerns, tutting and telling him he was off his head. He had no reason to go after her, she’d said, and he needed to relax. His argument that Azog could turn to her to get to him fell on deaf ears, and as usual his logic was lost in a tangle of bedsheets, breathless cries and screams, and thundering orgasms.

She definitely had a persuasive streak in her nature.

*****

“Thranduil! Bard!”

Thorin’s voice carried over the racket of the squad room, where Fili and Kili were rolling around on the floor wrestling. Their colleagues were gathered around cheering on one or the other, while Thranduil and Bard sat hunched over a desk discussing evidence. The brothers on the floor stopped struggling, and a silence fell over the area at the tone.

“I need a word.”

He turned and walked towards his office, and the two detectives exchanged looks. Thranduil rose to his feet and followed Bard towards the office, where Thorin stood waiting just inside the door. He closed it at their back as they passed him, turning to face them with a serious look.

“Dimitrius Bolg has escaped,” he said quietly.

“What?” Bard exclaimed. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Thranduil closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. “What happened?” he asked.

Thorin sighed, sitting on the edge of his desk and folding his arms. “He complained of abdominal pain, and was being transferred to the medical wing across the way,” he said, his head low. “The transport vehicle was attacked and four guards were killed.”

A heavy silence fell.

“Damn,” Bard said quietly.

Every cop felt it when one of their own fell.

Thranduil in haled deeply. “So he’s in the wind?”

Thorin nodded. “There have been absolutely no sightings of him,” he replied. “Nobody has heard a damned thing. I have all my contacts out with their ears to the ground, but nothing has come back. This is one seriously fucked up situation, guys. Seriously fucked up.”

Bard rubbed his temples. “Ok. We know where the girlfriend is, we need to put her under surveillance,” he said.

“Already done.”

“Where else would he go? His old man’s place?”

Thranduil shook his head. “He may be stupid, but he’s not _that_ stupid,” he said. “That’s too predictable a move. He won’t go anywhere near Azog. Not for a while anyway.”

“I wouldn’t rule anything out,” Bard said. “He’s on the run, and every cop in the country is going to be out for blood now we’ve lost some of our own. He’s going to have to watch his back, his arse, and every other body part, and make sure he covers his tracks.”

“I want protective detail on Talia,” Thranduil said suddenly. “He’ll target her, I’m sure of it.”

“I understand your concern, Thran, but we’re stretched to the limit,” Thorin said.

“Then un-stretch it!” he roared, smashing his fist against the wall beside him. “I will _not_ have her as a target through this motherfucker’s desperation! I want her protected!”

“Thranduil, she’s with you all the time when you aren’t working,” Bard pointed out. “And when you are, she’s at her own work. Nothing will happen to her, I’m sure.”

“You do not know that!” he hissed, his hair fanning out around him as he whirled round to face his partner. “And I will not take the risk!”

“Leave it with me,” Thorin said, breaking the tension. “I can’t promise anything, but I will see what I can do. That’s all I can say for now.”

Thranduil glared at him for several seconds, before storming out of the room.

*****

A cell phone rang, the shrill tone slicing into the otherwise peaceful silence.

“Hey.”

“Target has been spotted entering Bolg’s secure lock-up,” the voice said. “Movement on the East Quarter. Estimated an hour away.”

“On it.”

The call disconnected.

*****

“I didn’t think we’d learn much coming here,” Bard muttered as he unwrapped a chocolate bar. “Want some?” The candy was held out towards Thranduil, who shook his head.

“We still had to come here,” he said, guiding the car towards the exit of the parking lot. “They could have missed something, anything. Even just one single small detail. There was a lot of confusion when the bastard escaped.” His eyes scanned his surroundings as he drove between the lines of parked vehicles on his way to the exit. “I wouldn’t put it past him to have loitered close by, just to watch how we react to our own being taken out.”

“Me neither, he’s a sick fuck,” Bard agreed. “However, it wouldn’t be the wisest move on his part. If we even get a single notion where he is, he’s history.”

“Good result for us then,” he muttered. “I think-what the _fuck?!”_ He slammed on the brakes, whipping the steering wheel to the right as a car shot out of a parking space, slamming their car side-on. The vehicle rocked with the impact.

“Jesus Christ!” Bard yelled, fighting to unfasten his seat belt. “Are you ok, Thran?”

The driver of the other car leapt from his seat, drawing a gun and aiming it at Thranduil. Too close to avoid the bullet, he froze, one hand on the buckle of his seat belt, the other on his own gun.

His eyes shifted as a movement caught his attention, focusing over the man’s shoulder. A figure appeared on the rooftop about two hundred yards out, a rifle in their hands. The next thing, the man before him fell to the ground, blood pouring from multiple shots.

He flew out of the car. “Rooftop!” he roared, taking off towards the building. “Call for backup! Alert the prison guards! Secure the area!”

*****

Up on the roof, Talia gasped as she threw herself back against the wall of the heating vent, panting hard.

_Fuck._

She’d been seen, and possibly blown her cover.

She dropped to her haunches, frantically gathering the spent shell casings from her feet. A few spilled out of her hand, and she cursed as she whipped her glove off with her teeth, her other hand clutching her rifle. Grabbing the casings, she shoved them into one of her pockets, and flew across the rooftop.

The rifle tucked into a strap across her back, and she scrambled down the metal ladder, leaping from the last few rungs and taking off at a rapid sprint. Her chest hurt as she ran, her adrenalin pumping hard and fast. She could hear chaos unfolding behind her, and needed to put as much distance between herself and the scene as fast as possible.

She skidded to a stop, her head whipping in both directions as she hesitated. Taking a right turn, she fled down the alleyway, leaping over abandoned sacks of garbage and dodging round dumpsters as she covered ground. A cat screeched and hissed in protest at being disturbed as she shot past, but she ignored it and veered left.

The muscles in her legs hurt like hell, but she kept moving. The wail of distant sirens steadily grew louder, and she ducked under a broken garage door into an old, run-down workshop.

She didn’t stop.

She couldn’t.

Her life depended on her will to keep moving. The thought spurred her on, and she re-emerged out on a ramp on the other side of the large building, on a busier street. She whipped the gun from her back and stuffed it down inside her coat, zipping it up to conceal the firearm. Forcing herself to try to breathe slower, she stepped into the hoards of shoppers and pedestrians as she crossed the street, winding in between cars as they passed. Entering a department store, she took the escalator to a lower level and headed down to the underground parking lot.

Her black 4x4 sat parked in a far corner, patiently waiting for her.

She unlocked it, sliding her trembling body into the driver’s seat, and leaned her head back against the headrest. A deep sigh shuddered out of her, as she closed her eyes and mentally assessed the damage. She swallowed and shook her head rapidly, starting the engine and moving the vehicle out of the spot, knowing she had to vacate the area. She’d easily covered a mile, mile and a half, on foot, but Thranduil was a good cop. He’d have kept up with her, he’d have picked up which route she’d taken.

And he would still be on her tail.

Her body shook as she guided the car out of the lot and onto street level, her hands gripping the steering wheel in a death grip. Deep breaths weren’t helping her; she felt dizzy as the increased oxygen flowed into her bloodstream.

_Get a fucking grip,_ she chastised herself. _Handle this like the professional you’re supposed to be. Don’t fall apart now._

Her gaze fell to the glove compartment as she waited to turn at the junction, and she reached over, flipping it open. Tugging an opened pack of cigarettes out, she flipped the lid of the pack and pulled one out, tossing the pack onto the seat beside her. A lighter sat hidden in the drinks cooler, and she retrieved it, lighting the cigarette and inhaling deeply.

Better.

The surge of nicotine increased her dizziness, but only momentarily. Sliding a composed mask over her features, she swept the vehicle out into the flow of traffic, and put her foot down.

*****

“Any luck?”

Thranduil shook his head as he crossed the rooftop towards Bard. “No. I lost him,” he panted, still breathing hard. “I must have chased him for over a mile, but the sneaky son of a bitch got away.”

“It’s just as well he left something behind then, isn’t it?” his partner smirked.

Thranduil’s eyebrows lifted briefly.

Bard’s gloved hand produced a shell casing, holding it up for inspection. “We got lucky.” A grin accompanied his words.

“Well I’ll be damned,” the blonde muttered, grabbing his wrist and tugging it closer to look at the casing. “Is it too much to ask for a print?”

“We’ll find out when we get it to the lab,” he replied, pulling free and dropping the object into an evidence bag and sealing it. “I’ll make sure it gets rushed through. This has to be the closest to a lead we’ve found on your mystery shooter.”

Thranduil frowned, turning to gaze out over the rooftops below them. “It’s out of his MO to leave something behind,” he murmered.

“But you spotted him this time,” Bard pointed out. “Maybe he panicked. Made a mistake. Even the best make mistakes, Thran. You know that.”

“What I _do_ know is that I’m tired,” he replied. “Tired of this shit. Tired of somebody taking a pop at me every fucking time I go out. Tired of worrying myself crazy in case they target Talia. I need to call her.”

His friend nodded slowly. “Take some time out,” he advised. “Call her. Go see her. Do what you need to do.”

He sighed wearily as he pulled his phone from his pocket, feeling the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. Flipping through the screens, he found her number and pressed to connect.

She answered on the fourth ring. “Hey babe,” she greeted him.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said on another sigh.

“What’s wrong?” she asked immediately.

“Nothing. I just needed to hear your voice,” he said softly.

Silence.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound your usual self,” she said.

“I’ll be alright,” he confirmed. “Just a shit day, that’s all. I just needed to hear your voice, little kitty. That will get me through the rest of this fucked up day, I promise.”

“If you want to meet up, we can,” she said quietly.

He hesitated. “I’ll try to be home early tonight,” he said, after thinking over her suggestion. “There’s a lot I need to see through today, and if I leave it, I won’t want to come back to it. Promise me you’ll stay safe, wherever you are.”

“I always do,” she replied. “Please try not to stress.”

“Talia…I…” He trailed off.

“What is it?” she asked, her tone soft and like silk to his battered senses.

He closed his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.

Sitting in her pulled over vehicle, tears burned her eyes and cascaded down her cheeks. “I love you too,” she whispered. Guilt ripped through her. She _did_ love him, more than anything. More than her own existence.

She heard him swallow.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he whispered back, and the line disconnected.

She leaned her head back against the head rest, allowing her tears to take over.

This had gone too far.

She was in too deep.

And there was no way out.

Sooner or later, she was sure he would find out she was the one dropping his assailants. If that happened, all hell would break loose.

And if she admitted everything, all hell would break loose.

Either way, she was going to lose him.

Forever.


	9. Chapter 9

** CHAPTER NINE **

****

_“Losing you... things will never be the same_

_Can you hear me call your name?_

_If we changed it back again, Things would never be the same...”_

Talia’s voice rang out through the apartment, crystal clear and strong as she sang along with the CD. She turned as Thranduil closed the door, her deep blue eyes meeting his.

_“In your hand, babe, I don't understand_

_You've got the eyes of a child but you hurt like a man, always do, Always do.”_

She walked towards him, holding her hands out, and he dropped his keys onto the coffee table, taking hers in both of his. His arms slid around her as he tugged her to lean against him, and he closed his eyes as he buried his face in her hair.

The track changed, and they slowly swayed together.

_“When the day gets dark Over a thousand streets_

_And you feel your heart Is a living beat”_

She continued to sing, her voice infusing itself into his soul.

_“When you're all alone And you close your eyes_

_Naked to the bone The dream comes alive”_

The beat merged into his bones as he shifted slightly, crushing her mouth with his in a deep, erotic kiss.

“I need you,” he whispered.

She wound her fingers through his hair, tugging him back down to her, her kiss hungry and desperate. His hands trailed up and down her back.

“For fuck sake..!” he snarled in anger, as his cell phone started ringing. “What the _hell.._?”

She slowly untangled herself from his arms, allowing him to take the call.

“This had better be fucking headline stuff,” he snapped into the phone, turning away from her slightly.

She folded her arms, hearing Bard’s rapid flow of words on the other end.

Thranduil’s face changed. “What? I’m on my way.” He ended the call, lifting apologetic eyes to her. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I have to go.”

She nodded, swallowing. “Is everything ok?” she asked.

“Yes. Better than ok. We have a decent image of a fingerprint found on a bullet casing from a shooting this morning. It’s being processed,” he said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He dropped a swift kiss on her mouth and turned.

“Thranduil,” she said, anguish in her voice.

He turned back.

“I…I need to talk to you about something,” she whispered.

He stepped closer, concern in his ice blue eyes. “What’s wrong, baby? What is it?”

“I…” She stopped, hesitating.

“Are you ill?” he asked quietly.

“No.”

“Has someone hurt you?”

“No.”

“Are you leaving me?”

“No.”

“Then surely whatever it is can keep until I get back,” he said softly, kissing her again. “I promise, I won’t be long. We can snuggle up when I get back and you can tell me anything. I promise. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said to his retreating back as he left the apartment. A deep sense of distress filled her abdomen, making her feel violently sick. Dashing to the bathroom, she just made it as her stomach emptied, and she heaved into the lavatory.

*****

“Results?” Thranduil demanded, crashing through the swing doors.

Bard spun round, his coffee held protectively in one hand. “Nope. We’re running it through the database now,” he said. “Calm your jets, Batman. Have a coffee.”

“I’m too wound up for coffee,” he answered, lowering his frame to sit on the edge of the desk, his gaze on the computer screen. Thousands of images of partial fingerprints flew past, and he folded his arms as he inhaled deeply. “This could be a case-breaker,” he said.

“For one aspect, yes,” his partner agreed. “But it still won’t settle the contract part.”

“Maybe once we know who the shooter is, a connection between him and Azog will appear,” he replied. “Maybe it will all join together, and we’ll just have to connect the dots.”

“Miracles do happen, once in a while,” Bard mused, his gaze also fixed on the screen. “You never know what this will turn up with.”

Thranduil shrugged. “We just have to hope that the print is already in the system somewhere, for one thing or another,” he said, sliding off the desk. “I think I _will_ grab a coffee. D’you want anything?”

“No, man…I’m good,” his partner replied.

He disappeared, returning a few minutes later with a strong coffee in his hands. “I had to leave Talia,” he said, settling into a seat and crossing one ankle over his knee. “I’d only just got home.”

“Sorry about that. I thought you’d want to know what we found,” Bard apologised.

“It’s ok. I do want to know – I’ve wanted to know his identity since the start of this bullshit,” he said. He frowned. “Something’s wrong with her.”

His friend glanced at him. “Who, Talia? In what way?”

“I don’t know,” he said, sipping his coffee. “She seemed…upset? Said she needed to tell me something.”

“Maybe she’s pregnant,” he laughed.

“Fuck off,” Thranduil snorted. “She’s not pregnant. I would know.”

“Hmmm…stranger things have happened, my friend,” Bard reminded him in a  slightly sing-song voice. The computer continued to throw images rapidly across the screen. “Did she give you a hint?”

“No. I made sure she was alright, and said we’d talk when I got back,” he replied. “I know she isn’t unwell, and she isn’t hurt. And she’s not going to dump my arse or anything.”

Bard roared with laughter. “Tell me you didn’t ask her!” he howled.

“Bastard,” he muttered. “I covered the important things, alright? Shut your pie-hole.”

His partner leaned over, almost spilling his coffee as he shook with laughter. “Oh, you fucking blockhead! I can’t believe you asked her that!”

Thranduil shifted his foot, kicking him and re-settling back to his original position, scowling. His foot dropped back to the floor at speed as the computer beeped.

_MATCH FOUND_

Both men looked at each other, and Bard hesitantly clicked on the accept icon.

_RESTRICTED ACCESS. THE USER DOES NOT HAVE SECURITY CLEARANCE_

“Fuck!” he yelled in angry frustration.

Thranduil rose to his feet, pushing him aside. “I do,” he said, typing his passcode into the system.

The image on the screen changed, throwing up a photograph and details.

His face went chalk white.

He staggered back a few steps.

_Talia._

*****

Talia lifted her head groggily as her phone beeped an incoming text message. She pushed herself away from the cool porcelain of the toilet, heaving herself round to sit on her backside with her back against the wall. Tugging her phone from her jeans pocket, she sniffed and swallowed as she accessed the message.

Thranduil.

_I need to see you. Now._

Her heart fell.

He knew.

*****

She didn’t know how she made the journey to the precinct, but the next thing she knew, she was pulling up outside the massive building. Although the hour was late, cops still came and went, uniformed officers going in or out, and squad cars pulling in or leaving. Her dazed eyes settled on a shiny black Mercedes, and she sighed to herself.

Her superior from the field unit had shown up.

That meant it was _definitely_ game over.

Sluggishly, she undid her seat belt and slid from the car, locking it and trudging up the steps to the main doors. Each step deeper into the building took her closer to the end of life as she knew it, and she was dreading the confrontation she was sure to face. Steady paces took her up two levels to where Thranduil’s squad room was located, the spiked heels of her boots echoing off the tiled floor.

The squad room only held a few officers as she stepped inside.

Dwalin, Bofur, and Balin looked up from their paperwork, sad looks on their faces. Looks of disappointment, looks of regret. Looks of judgement.

Her gaze shifted as Thranduil appeared at the far end of the room, his cold, icy eyes meeting hers. He signalled with two fingers, beckoning her over, and she followed his retreating back as he went into an office. Large glass windows right around it showed him pacing steadily back and forth, his mouth pursed as he moved.

“Close the door,” he said as she entered, and she complied.

Turning back to face him, she opened her mouth.

“Do not speak,” he said coldly, before she could say anything. “I did not bring you here to listen to your excuses, your lies.”

“I have no lies to tell you,” she said.

One eyebrow twitched. “And you expect me to believe that?” he asked. “Every single word you have ever _uttered_ to me has been a lie!” He moved towards her, his eyebrows down in a deep frown, anger blazing in his cold eyes. “You are a cold-hearted killer,” he hissed. “I read your file. You have a kill list that would shame a terrorist. I want to know why you took this whole clusterfuck of a situation as far as you did.”

She swallowed. “The government formed a select group of trained assassins,” she said, speaking calmly and quietly. “Our job was to protect those important to our system. Presidents, electoral figures, some of the country’s top surgeons and doctors. Aristocrats. Police officers. You fell under that radar.”

He stared down his nose at her, not moving a muscle.

“Cycnus Azog is a growing threat,” she said. “We knew this. We also knew he was going to take you out, and the group were called together to make sure it didn’t happen. Your track record is beyond exemplary; your conviction rate is through the roof. They didn’t want one of the best officers in the force taken out. You had to be protected.”

“And you put yourself forward,” he said coldly, sarcasm in his tone.

“No. I was given the assignment. I was chosen because I’m the best at what I do,” she answered. “Until today, I’ve never made a mistake.”

He looked away from her for a few moments, his face hard. “You were going to tell me,” he said, turning back to her.

She nodded.

“You knew I was on the verge of finding out.”

She swallowed again. “Granted. But I was going to tell you anyway.”

His nostrils flared as he stared at her. “You had me in your sights that very first day we met,” he said. “The distributor cap in your car. You planned that.”

She shook her head. “No. I met you by pure accident. I didn’t know at that point who I was assigned to. All I knew was that I was sent here to protect an officer, nothing more. I was waiting on the details coming through.”

“When did you receive them?” he demanded. “Before or after we slept together?”

“After,” she replied. “That’s the truth, Thranduil, I swear it. It was after.”

His lips compressed into a thin line as he considered her reply. “No. I do not believe you.”

She closed her eyes, trying to shield herself from the pain that shot through her at his words. “It’s the truth,” she said simply. “Even though I’d become involved with you, I still had to do what my job required.”

He’d begun walking back and forth in front of her, but stopped and spun to face her as she said this. “Did your job _require_ you to use me?” he demanded. “Did your job _require_ you to go to bed with me? To have sex with me? To mess with my head?!” His voice had risen as he spoke.

“No!” she shouted back. “And it didn’t require me to fall in love with you!”

“Do not talk to me of _love!”_ he spat in disgust, zeroing in on her so that he was a hair’s breadth away. “What do you know of _love?_ You think that what you feel is real?”

“It was real enough for me to kill for it!” she spat, her own anger rising as a form of defence.

“Are you ready to die for it?” he roared. “Because you’ve torn my fucking heart out and ripped it into a thousand pieces! I have nothing left! _Nothing!_ My fucking soul is dead!”

The air was electric between them, as hurt, pain, and anguish flowed freely.

She shook her head. “You have _no_ idea the guilt I’ve had to live with,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “I fell so hard for you, but I couldn’t tell you the truth about what I was doing. If my identity is compromised, I’m out of the unit, and they take _no_ responsibility for me. It’s over. I’ve lost everything because I made a simple mistake of dropping a casing.”

“No,” he corrected her. “It is over because you lied to me. It is over because you sat and watched how _fucked up_ I was over this whole case, and you said nothing. You watched me suffer. You withheld the truth from me, knowing it was all I was looking for. You went to bed with me and fucked me six ways from Sunday, still not saying anything. You made me fall in love with you, and you _still_ held out on me. That’s why it’s over.”

“What I feel for you is the truth, Thranduil,” she whispered. “And nothing can take that away, because it _is_ real.”

“You have no right to decide what is real and what isn’t,” he spat angrily. His eyes blazed with fire. “No right whatsoever! You wouldn’t have even considered telling me if that casing hadn’t been found!”

She shook her head. “I would have told you,” she insisted. “It was becoming too hard to live with. I’d have told you. I’d have picked the time, but I would have told you.”

He turned away from her, fury emanating from him in waves, and she took a deep breath in an attempt to steady her nervous stomach.

The door behind her opened, and Allan, her superior, stuck his head into the room.

“Taylor. Other office. Now,” he commanded.

She hesitated, her eyes on Thranduil’s back. He didn’t move or turn around. Feeling defeated and worn, she slowly left the office and followed Allan. He ushered her into the office across the hall and closed the door.

“You have made the mother of all fuck-ups,” he said, turning to her and folding her arms. “Not only have you compromised your identity and therefore compromised the entire unit, you fucking slept with the target!” His voice echoed off the walls as he roared. “Do you know how much damage you’ve caused? Do you even care?”

“What the hell do you know?” she shot back.

“I have fucking eyes, Talia. I can see,” he shouted. “I watched you both, I saw what was going on between you! How the _fuck_ can you stay focused if you’re fucking the person you’re assigned to protect?!”

“That’s my personal business!” she hissed. “None of yours!”

“You were told if you messed up, you’d be on your own,” he said, pointing at her. “And that’s exactly the situation you’re in now. The unit is taking nothing more to do with you. You’re history.”

“For fuck sake!” she exclaimed. “I made _one_ mistake!”

“One _fatal_ mistake!” he roared in her face. “And if this cannot be contained, we take _no_ responsibility for you. We won’t acknowledge you, or the fact you were working under orders. Why do you think the tips are passed on through calls, not messages? Nothing to trace back. Burner phones. No connection. You messed up, you find your way out of it. Away from the unit.”

“You bastard,” she whispered, stung to the core. Not only had she lost Thranduil, she’d lost her job, her back-up. Her entire life was on the tilt. “After all I’ve done for you and your miserable group of lazy fuckers who don’t have the balls to do the dirty work! After all the contracts I’ve kept, the amount of successes I’ve notched up! And you kick me out over _one miserable mistake?_ Fuck you. And fuck your secret-society organisation.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Thranduil exit the office they’d been in, his eyes meeting hers briefly through the glass that comprised one wall of the room. He looked away as quickly as he’d looked at her.

“You knew the risks when you joined us years ago,” Allan snapped. “You knew what you were getting into. Don’t try to lay guilt on anyone now – you only have yourself to blame. _Mea Culpa,_ as they say.”

She glared at him. “I think you’re just pissed because I have more balls than you do,” she retorted. “You’re mad because that tiny fucking excuse for a penis of yours isn’t big enough to make you a man and to do what real men are capable of!”

He moved like lightning, grabbing her throat and crashing her back against the filing cabinet. “You do not speak to me like that!” he hissed. “You are nothing! Nothing but a used-up, washed out _whore!”_

The door crashed open and she heaved in air as he was violently dragged away from her, her hand going to her throat. Thranduil threw him with force across the room.

“Do not fucking touch her!” he thundered, his powerful voice booming off the relatively small enclosure. “Put your hands on her again, I’ll break your fucking arms. Both of them.”

Allan stared up at the giant towering over him, visibly shaken.

Thranduil slowly turned, his ice cold eyes cutting her like shards of steel. “Get out of my sight,” he said quietly, closing his eyes and turning away again.

She stood for a moment, her gaze absorbing every line of his body, every strand of his hair, as she knew she was saying goodbye forever. Then she left the office in silence.

Thranduil turned angry eyes to the government agent. “Do not ever touch her again,” he warned him.

He snorted. “I wouldn’t want to,” he retorted. “I won’t be seeing her again anyway. She’s history.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Allan looked at him as though he was a slow learner. “I fired her,” he said. “She’s gone. Finished.”

“What’s she going to do to provide for herself?” he demanded. “How could you turn your back on her?”

“Well maybe if you took your cock out of her for more than five minutes, she might be able to go get herself a job!” the agent shot back.

Thranduil didn’t hesitate, and sent a left hook up under his chin, slamming his head back against the wall. He slid to the floor, landing in a heap. Stepping over him, he left the office and slammed the door so hard, the glass pane shattered.


	10. Chapter 10

** CHAPTER TEN **

****

Tears blinded Talia as she made her way back to her apartment, the precinct slowly disappearing behind her. Her chest hurt as she gasped in painful breaths. She drove on automatic pilot, not registering what she was doing or what roads she was taking.

Her heart was in shreds.

She could deal with losing her job; that wasn’t an issue. She could always find another job, as the one at The Shire had been provided for her through the unit as a cover, and she received no pay from it.

She couldn’t handle losing Thranduil.

Her shoulders shook as she pulled over, resting her forehead against the steering wheel. He was everything to her, and she couldn’t imagine not having him in her life. He’d asked her if she was ready to die for love. Her answer was yes. She’d die for him, to protect him, to ease his suffering if that’s what it would take. But she loved him with every fibre of her being, and nothing he said or did to her could ever change that. The cop she’d fallen in love with had treated her with so much care and tenderness, made her feel special, made his world revolve around her.

And she’d lied to him.

Yes, she’d saved his life several times, and kept him alive, but she’d lied through her teeth. All those nights when he’d came home, exhausted and worn out, stressed over the mystery shooter, and she’d massaged him, cooked him a meal, bathed with him, taken him to bed.

But she hadn’t told him her true identity, or why she was in his life to begin with. Lifting her head, she stared out of the window into the darkness, the rain lashing heavily against the car window. Her eyes followed the tracks of water as they ran down the glass, her mind twisting and turning as she fought to find a level playing field to balance on while she tried to fix her life.

He was hurting, and hurting badly. And he hated her for what she’d done.

She didn’t blame him; how could she? How would she have felt if the situations were reversed? His anger was understandable, and to be expected. She could only hope and pray that he would calm down enough and think things through, and maybe then he would allow her to try and explain her reasons behind her actions.

Until then, all she could do would be to lie low and fade into the background, knowing he wanted nothing to do with her.

Digging her depleting stash of cigarettes from the glovebox, she wiped tears away as she lit one, exhaling the thick stream of smoke as she battled to pull herself together. Thranduil’s angry eyes appeared in her mind’s eye, furious as he roared at her, and the image made her cry harder. She’d never meant to hurt him, not in a million years. He didn’t deserve that.

She swallowed, steering the car back into the moving traffic, and headed onwards.

*****

“Can you tell me why there is one unconscious government agent lying on the floor of my office?” Thorin enquired dryly.

Thranduil slanted him a sideways glance. “No.”

He sighed. “Come on, Thran. Talk to me.”

“No.”

“You can’t bottle it up, man,” he said. “I know you’re angry, and hurting-“

“You know _nothing!”_ Thranduil hissed, whipping round and giving him a fright. “You do not know how I feel. Do not even attempt to guess.”

Thorin backed up, startled at the sudden outburst from his usually calm, stoic colleague.

“Just stay the hell out of my way,” the blonde snarled, grabbing his jacket and storming out.

Thorin watched him leave, meeting Bard’s concerned eyes over the heads of Balin, Bofur, and Dwalin, who’d tactfully stayed silent.

*****

Talia kicked the door closed and tossed her keys across the kitchen unit as she passed the workspace. Shrugging out of her jacket, she threw it over the back of the couch and rested her hands on the upholstery, gazing out across the dark city. Her eyes felt like they had been burned; she’d cried the whole drive home. Her throat was sore, her head was thumping, and her chest hurt.

But combined, it was nothing to the pain in her heart.

She kicked her boots off, knocking them to one side and flexing her toes on the carpet. Her apartment seemed desolate – not just empty because she lived alone, but desolate and abandoned because Thranduil wasn’t there, and she knew he’d never be there again.

A gasp tore itself from her as she lurched sideways, knocked off her feet by a huge, solid weight crashing into her. Hitting the floor with a hard thump, the wind was knocked from her.

“Interfering bitch!” a voice snarled, as the weight shifted to sit astride her hips.

_Dimitrius Bolg._

His hands closed around her throat, but she was one step ahead of him, and reacting instinctively brought both her knees up hard against his lower back. He tipped forwards as she knocked him off-balance, and she swiped the side of her hand hard against his throat, cutting off his air supply momentarily.

He choked as he clutched his throat, giving her enough time to buck him off enough to roll away and leap to her feet. Launching herself bodily against him, they toppled back down, with her in the dominant position this time. She swerved her upper body to one side as his fist shot towards her, just missing the blow, and drove the heel of her hand up against his nose.

A sickening sound of cracking cartilage reached her ears, along with his roar of anger. Before she knew it, he threw her off onto her back, getting to his feet and kicking her ribs with brute force. She automatically rolled into a ball, trying to evade his feet, but he kicked her repeatedly, each contact harder than the one before.

Her hand shot out and grabbed a five kilo dumb-bell that she’d been working with that morning, and she booted his knee nearest to her, bringing him down onto one leg. She swung the weight and slammed it against the side of his head, and he crumpled to his side on the floor.

Bouncing to her feet, she flew past him, but his hand reached out and gripped her ankle, bringing her to her knees. She flipped her body over, using her other foot to kick him in the face, and his head rocked back, his grip loosening slightly. She twisted her limb and broke free, lifting herself again and making a run for it.

She collapsed against the kitchen worktop as his weight thudded against her back, a hand gripping her hair and tugging hard enough to rip hair free.

“You fucked with the wrong one this time, you miserable little whore!” Bolg hissed in her ear. He slammed her head forwards, the glass of the mirror on the wall smashing with a loud crack. Blood poured from multiple cuts on her face, blinding her as it flowed into her left eye. He pulled her back and did it again and again, smearing the thick red liquid and fragments of glass in all directions.

She braced her hands against the glass, struggling to put distance between herself and it, but he outweighed her like a bull against a field mouse. He turned and threw her across the room, her back slamming against the edge of the cooker. She screamed with as the pain shot up her spine, and he laughed as he advanced slowly.

“You will pay,” he growled. “You will scream and beg for a quick death! You will wish you were never born!”

“Fuck you,” she whispered, panting for breath as she spat a mouthful of blood at him. It dripped down his cheek, and he grinned as he slowly wiped it, smearing it further.

Not taking her eyes from his, she watched as the distance between them closed, and ducked sharply as he suddenly swung a punch. It sailed harmlessly over her head, and she rammed her lowered stance into his midsection, taking him back against the fridge. The appliance rocked as they collided into it, and Bolg gripped handfuls of her hair as he threw her away from him.

“Piece of filth!” he roared.

She spun against the couch, landing with her upper body weight across it. Bolg pounced on her and threw his weight on her, the piece of furniture crashing to the floor as it toppled. She howled in agony as her head cracked against the edge of the low table, and he grunted in twisted satisfaction.

“I’m going to break every bone in your body!” he growled, punching her hard.

Her head spun to the side as his fist connected, the wind completely knocked from her. She tried to lift her legs to dislodge him, but her strength was waning rapidly.

“And then I’m going to tear apart the blonde cop, limb from limb!” he snarled. “I’ll break every bone he has, and he will _scream_ for the pain to stop!”

Something deep inside her flared into a furnace of protective anger as she fought for her life.

She wasn’t just fighting for hers - she was fighting for Thranduil’s as well.

And that gave her a bolt of energy that surged through her like a rocket. She heaved her aching body over, dragging the solid weight with her. Kicking herself free, she grabbed blindly at the curtains and hauled herself to her feet. Her legs trembled with exertion as she made her way back to the kitchen, where she collapsed against the worktop.

A meaty fist grabbed her hair, yanking hard and turning her back around and slamming her backbone against the unit.

“And now you die, bitch,” Bolg hissed in her face.

She smirked, watching the confusion cloud his wide-set eyes. “I don’t think so, motherfucker,” she spat, bringing her right arm up at speed. The serrated knife in her grip plunged through his skull just above his left ear, a shrill scream deafening her.

Using the last of her physical strength, she twisted the handle towards herself, making sure she’d hit home.

The life drained from the demon eyes that stared into hers, and he crumpled to the floor, the knife still embedded in the side of his head.

The kitchen spun around her as she wobbled unsteadily, and she forced herself to step over the corpse. Her left foot caught on his shoulder, and she collapsed onto the cold, hard surface.

*****

Talia groggily opened her eyes.

Something was terrifyingly wrong.

Blood streamed from her head, completely blinding one eye. She couldn’t feel her legs, and every other part of her body was screaming in agony. Her chest and lungs hurt with each gasp of air, and she lay prone for a while as she tried to muster the effort to move.

Very slowly, she dragged herself across the floor on her elbows, each move sending stabs of pain through her entire body. The overturned couch seemed miles away, but with each painful move, and each deep grunt, she slowly closed the gap. One hand flailed out and grabbed the edge of her jacket, dragging it closer as she delved into the pocket for her cell phone.

She turned her head and wiped her face against her shoulder in an attempt to clear her vision a little, but it proved to be futile. Trying to boot up the phone, she realised the fingers on one hand were broken and useless, and used the heel of that hand to shift the device towards her other side. The effort of shifting her other arm made her scream in pain, but she persevered and managed to kick some life into the phone.

She flipped through the screens, hitting Thranduil’s number.

She needed him.

She was going to die, and she needed him.

She hit the connect icon, and could hear ringing through the whooshing in her ears.

Her screen flashed.

_Your call has been terminated._

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she connected again, and again it rang out.

_Your call has been terminated._

The phone clattered to the floor as her reserves ran out, and her head thudded down next to it.

*****

Thranduil stared at his phone with a cold, hard mask over his features. He swiped his thumb across the screen, dismissing the call for the second time, and threw it in the drawer of his desk, slamming it closed.

Talia had some nerve calling him.

She was the last person he wanted to speak to.

*****

“You really should think about going home, buddy,” Bard’s voice said quietly, over Thranduil’s shoulder.

He turned and looked up at him hovering at his side. Saying nothing, he went back to his paperwork.

“Come on, man…talk to me,” Bard said. “We’ve known each other a _long_ time; we’ve been through all sorts of hell together. Talk to me.”

A long silence followed.

“I have nothing to talk about,” he said finally, bundling the documents together and shuffling them against the desk to even them out. “I have nothing to say.”

His partner shifted, dragging the seat out across from him and lowering himself into it, leaning his forearms on the desk. “You don’t fool me,” he said quietly. “I know you’re hurting inside. I can see it in your eyes. I can tell without even looking at you, I know you so well.”

Ice blue eyes and a wall of silence met him.

He leaned back and sighed, dragging his hands through his hair. “Talk to her,” he said.

“No.”

“Come on, Thran – at least get yourself some closure,” he said. “You’re in a mess right now, what harm would it do?”

“I will tell you,” Thranduil said decidedly. “I do not trust myself around her right now. And that’s the truth. Leave it at that.”

Bard shook his head.

A door flew open and Thorin flew out of his office at speed. He dropped to his haunches at the side of their desk, his face a picture of dread.

“A nine-one-one call came through about twenty minutes ago,” he said, his tone quiet but urgent. “Your government guy shielded it from this department. There’s been trouble at Talia’s apartment.”

Both men shot to their feet.

“What’s happened?” Thranduil demanded, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it on, quickly checking his weapon.

“It’s not clear yet,” Thorin replied, getting to his feet. “The agent guy is on scene. Thranduil!”

The blonde stopped and turned at his tone.

Thorin hesitated. “The coroner’s van is on site.”

Thranduil staggered slightly, and Bard grabbed his arm to steady him.

“I’ll drive,” he said, guiding him out of the squad room and down towards the stairs.

Ten minutes of breaking every speed law in the state later, the blue lights from their car flashed in conjunction with the emergency responders’ as they screeched to a halt. Thranduil was out of the vehicle like a shot, Bard on his heels.

“No entry, Detectives,” Allan said, stepping out from behind the black coroner’s van and holding his hand up. “Restricted access.”

“Restricted my arse!” Bard exploded. “Let us in there! You have no jurisdiction here!”

“Sorry, can’t allow it,” he replied. “We’re handling this.”

“Where’s Talia?” Thranduil demanded, his worried eyes darting between the agent and the entry of her apartment block. “Where is she?!”

“You don’t have to concern yourself, Detective,” he said. “Everything’s being taken care of.”

Thranduil flipped, grabbing the front of his suit and dragging him off his feet. “Tell me where she is, you son of a bitch!” he snarled.

“Thran!” Bard prised his grip loose, and the agent stumbled as he dropped back to his feet.

“She’s in the back of the coroner’s van!” he said angrily, brushing his jacket off with one hand. “Two attended. You’re too late. Walk away from this, Detective, unless you want to be criminally charged with impeding a government investigation!”

“Fuck you and your investigation!” he roared. “I want to see her!”

“It’s over, Detective!” Allan shouted back. “She’s dead. We will dispose of her.”

“You fucking arsehole!” He grabbed him again, throwing him to the ground. Bard leapt into action, hauling him back and dragging him away.

“Leave it, man…let it go. He’s not worth it, the piece of shit,” he said, struggling to hold his taller, heavier partner. “Breathe…stay with me, man.”

Thranduil glared at Allan as he cautiously shakily stood back up and took backward steps away from them.

“I’m watching you, Detective,” he warned, pointing directly at him before turning and hurrying back to his car.

“Let him go,” Bard said quietly, still keeping a firm hold on him. He waited until the agent’s car had pulled away before relaxing his grip.

Thranduil turned heartbroken eyes back to the building. “I have to go in,” he whispered. “I have to go in.”

His partner nodded. “I’ll be with you.”


	11. Chapter 11

** CHAPTER ELEVEN **

****

Thranduil’s stunned gaze absorbed every detail in the carnage he stood in.

The medics and emergency responders had cleared out, leaving a scene of utter destruction behind. The apartment looked as though it had been rocked by an earthquake.

The couch was overturned, the curtains pulled from the rails, blood everywhere. The mirror that hung on the kitchen wall with the butterfly etched into it was smashed to smithereens, blood splattered into each crevice of cracked glass.

He slowly stepped towards it, his breathing shallow. Bloodied handprints were placed on either side of it.

“She tried to defend herself,” he whispered, holding his hand next to one of the prints. “These are her hands. She had smaller hands than I do.” His mind flashed an image, an image of her small hands gripping his as they made love to each other, her fingers intertwined with his stronger, larger ones.

Bard stayed silent, feeling the pain emanating from him.

Thranduil lowered his shaky hand and turned away from the mirror. The knife block had been overturned, with the contents scattered on the bloodied worktop. His gaze landed on the edge of the coffee table, where more blood had settled. Strands of long black hair had dried into the pool.

Tears gathered in his eyes. “She called me,” he whispered brokenly. “She called me twice. I disconnected both times.” He met his partner’s anguished stare. “She called me for help, and I turned away. She died because I ignored her.” Tears tracked down his cheeks.

“She died because of what Bolg did to her,” Bard said softly. “From what I can see here, she fought a hard fight, but he did serious damage. Maybe you couldn’t have helped her anyway.”

He shook his head, angrily swiping both hands over his face. “No. This is my fault, my doing. I turned away from her and let her die, alone, in agony.”

His friend took a deep but silent breath, knowing he was locked in a world of pain that couldn’t be breeched. There was nothing he could say to lighten the burden he carried, the guilt he felt, the loss he was suffering.

Thranduil moved slowly across the apartment, moving debris aside gently with his toe. Her phone lay on the floor, partially covered with the edge of her jacket. He stooped down and lifted it, studying the blood smears across the cracked screen. His number was displayed behind the splintered glass and streaks of blood.

The last number she’d dialled, as she’d fought for her life.

Pain like nothing he’d ever experienced pierced his heart, and he crashed to his knees, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed. Strong hands gripped his shoulders from behind, but nothing was said.

*****

Two months passed.

Thranduil took emergency leave from the department, spending each and every day and night mind-numbingly drunk. He drank until he threw up, then drank some more. Each day turned into night and back again, but the pain didn’t lessen. It grew. It became unbearable.

The unit Talia had worked for refused to tell him anything, denying him access to her body, refusing to tell him where they’d buried her. Even Thorin and his bosses couldn’t pry any information; every request was met with a brick wall.

He sunk deeper into his grief.

He should’ve taken her call.

But he hadn’t, and he had to somehow live with that fact, the knowledge that the only chance he’d had to save her life had been tossed aside and ignored. She was dead because of him, because he’d turned his back on her when she’d needed him the most.

*****

The sun shone down, picking up deep blue highlights in a head of long, straight, black hair. Thick dark eyelashes lowered in a slow blink, a stream of cigarette smoke slowly drifting away in the warm air. Haunted eyes gazed out across the tops of the trees, not seeing anything. The pain that lay in the soul behind those eyes overtook everything, clouded every emotion or thought.

The warm breeze gently lifted the ends of the long hair, the movement unnoticed.

Deep blue eyes filled with tears, memories of the past as clear as day.

Talia blinked in determination, inhaling on her cigarette a final time before she deftly flicked it away across the grass. She wiped her wrist across her cheek, taking deep, even breaths to steady herself.

A second too late, she heard a soft noise.

The cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against her left temple, and she went rock still, closing her eyes.

It was finally over.

She jerked as a blindfold was tied rapidly over her eyes, tightened with force at the back of her head. Her wrists were wrenched behind her back and handcuffed, and she found herself being dragged to her feet. She stumbled as she was bodily hauled over the grass, her feet losing purchase on the soft ground.

Stubbornness refused her the right to speak.

A vehicle door opened, and she crashed against a soft seat, landing on her back, the door slamming again. A few seconds later, the vehicle rocked as somebody climbed in, another door slamming. The engine started and revved, and the world around her began to move. She lay still, concentrating on her breathing, not caring what was going to happen to her.

Nothing mattered anymore.

After a time had passed, she was unsure how long, the car stopped and the driver got out. The door at her feet opened and she was dragged across the seat. Her weight keeled to one side as she stumbled, the harsh grip on her being the only thing that held her upright as the door slammed again.

Gravel crunched under her feet as she was herded forwards, and the sound of a garage door opening met her ears. Then it closed again.

She gasped in pain as she was thrown roughly onto a hard chair, hitting her shoulders against the backrest.

Silence.

She waited.

The blindfold was ripped from her eyes, and she blinked a few times as she squinted against the light from the bulb overhead. Lifting her eyes, she saw the last person she expected to see.

Thranduil was walking backwards away from her, turning the blindfold over in his hands as he moved, his eyes cold and hard.

Her heart hammered in her chest, her breathing ragged.

He didn’t speak for a long time, just glared at her in unshielded rage.

“I thought you were dead,” he said finally. “I was told you had died in that apartment. You’d been _disposed of_ by that bastard agency you worked for.”

She didn’t answer.

He slowly walked around her, circling her like a hunter would circle prey. “More lies,” he hissed. “More deceit.”

Still silence.

“I grieved for you,” he said, still circling.

Her eyes tracked his movements as he passed in front of her.

“I cried rivers for you. Part of me died for you.”

He came to a stop before her, staring down at her.

Moving with the speed of a panther, his fist crashed into the drywall beside her head. “I fucking _loved_ you!” he screamed at her.

She hadn’t moved, he realised with shock. She hadn’t budged an inch, or even blinked. She’d been prepared to take a punch that would’ve caved her skull in.

He stepped back, stunned, his tears flowing silently.

Her anguished eyes followed him, unshed tears burning them. He slowly sank to his knees, burying his head in his hands as he sobbed loudly. Her tears began to fall, but she didn’t make a noise. Heart-wrenching sobs filled the air, his shoulders heaving as he battled with his grief, the ends of his long hair softly brushing the floor as he leaned forwards.

The minutes ticked past.

“I should be dead,” she said softly, after a long, long time. “After what Bolg put me through, I shouldn’t have survived.”

Heartbroken eyes met hers as he lifted his head.

“The unit covered it up. Azog lifted the contract on your head as he thought Bolg had killed me. He thought that would be enough to get you out of his hair, and he lost interest.”

He swallowed, gulping in air. “I had no closure,” he whispered.

She nodded. “I know,” she whispered back.

He twisted his body away from her, trying to wipe his steady flow of tears away.

The atmosphere was heavy, the handcuffs cutting into her skin as she wriggled slightly to ease the pain in her back.

His ice blue eyes flew to her, seeing her squirm. His heart broke even more. What was he doing to her? Why was he putting either of them through any more pain?

He slowly shuffled towards her on his knees, her eyes watching him with distrust and uncertainty in the depths. Coming to a stop before her, he lifted his hands and placed them on either side of her face.

“Why did you do that to me?” he cried. “Why? Make me understand, Talia, why?”

Her lower lip trembled as she read the emotions in the ice blue. Fear, guilt, anger, grief, heartache, resentment, hatred. Everything came to life in the amazing eyes that held hers, blurred with his tears.

“I had my reasons,” she whispered after a long silence. His hands fell away, and he rose to his feet. Circling her, he freed her from her restraints, tossing them onto a work bench a few feet away.

“Go,” he whispered.

A second or two passed before she moved, slowly getting to her feet. Hesitant steps took her towards the garage door, and she fought hard against the urge to turn back to him.

“Talia.”

The softly-spoken word stopped her in her tracks, and she slowly turned sideways so he was visible to her.

“I still love you,” he said softly. “More than anything. More than life.”

She gasped a breath in, her body shaking as her own grief erupted. A strangled sob tore from her throat as her tears overflowed.

She turned fully to face him as he stepped towards her, crushing her against him as his arms folded around her. She cried out in pain, jerking away slightly.

“What? What did I do?” he asked, anguish in his voice.

She shook her head. “Nothing. My ribs were broken, that’s all.”

His hands lifted and gently framed her face as he’d done previously. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“Sssh,” she whispered back. “It’s ok. It wasn’t your fault, baby.”

He stared down into her eyes, his heart thumping hard inside him. “I missed you _so_ much…so, so much.” His words were whispered so softly, she struggled to hear them. “I genuinely believed you were lost to me forever…I never thought…”

Her tears burned as they streamed down her cheeks, splashing onto his warm hands. “I’m sorry you had to go through everything,” she said. Her crying increased. “I love you so much, Thranduil – I can’t cope with this shit anymore!” Her head lowered, her body shaking violently as he gently wrapped his arms back around her, tucking her against his chest.

They stood together, both breaking their hearts, crying until they had no more tears left. Both emptying their souls of their grief and their heartache, their loneliness and despair. His hair draped over her shoulder and down her back as he leaned down, pressing his face into the curve of her neck. Seconds, minutes, maybe hours passed as they clung to each other, seeking comfort, strength, and understanding.

Thranduil moved first, after what felt like an age had passed. He held her face in his hands, his haunted eyes searching hers. “What do you intend to do?” he asked, his voice broken and hoarse.

She shrugged a little. “I don’t know,” she said. “I really don’t know. I don’t know what’s left for me, or where to go now.”

“Come with me,” he said. “I do not think I am strong enough to let you go again. I don’t _want_ to let you go again, Talia. I need you.”

Swallowing, she held his gaze, her doubt crystal clear. “I don’t know if you can accept what I’ve done, Thranduil. The last twelve years of my life, the secrets I’ve had to keep, the walls I’ve had to build to keep people away from me,” she said softly. “You managed to tear through those walls, and it scared the fucking crap out of me. I don’t know how you did it, but you did, and it was my downfall.”

He tenderly stroked her hair. “I never intended to bring you any pain or upset,” he told her. “All I could think about was how much you meant to me, how much of a necessity in my life you’d become. I can’t throw that away; I will _not_ throw that away.”

Her eyes watered again as she searched his.

“Come home with me,” he whispered. “We have all the time in the world to talk everything through. I made you a promise the last day I was with you in your apartment that I would listen to whatever you had to tell me, and I never did. I turned my back and broke that promise, so now I will keep it and see it through. I will listen to whatever you want to tell me, no matter how bad you think it might be.”

“If you thought you hated me before, you’ll definitely hate me if I tell you everything,” she said.

He shook his head. “No, I will not. I have killed people too, Talia – it comes with the job, the territory. I promise I will not push you to tell me anything that you are not comfortable with.”

She rested her forehead against his throat, closing her eyes and inhaling the masculine scent of him. “There is nothing I would keep from you,” she whispered. “Not after all that’s happened, everything that’s happened between us, and to us. I’d tell you anything you wanted to know.”

He gently tipped her chin up so he could look at her. “Then come home with me,” he pleaded. “If we both decide that we cannot move past this, then at least we will know that we’ve tried. If we don’t try, we could be losing the most precious thing to ever happen to each other.”

Her body trembled as she took a deep breath, and she finally nodded. Just a small nod, but still a positive signal. “I’ll come with you,” she said.

He touched his mouth to hers in a gentle kiss, no more than a brush of his warm flesh against hers, and stood back to his full height as he tucked her hair behind her ear. “Let’s go,” he whispered. “I think we both need to eat something and completely relax before we even consider any soul-searching. I know I am not in any great hurry.”

A small smile of gratitude flitted over her mouth. “I’m dreading doing this,” she admitted.

“Why?”

“I’ve never opened up to anyone about what’s in my past,” she told him. “Obviously my bosses – or _ex-_ bosses knew…but I’ve never been in a relationship where I loved the other person enough to talk about it.”

“Perhaps that is a good thing,” he decided. “Perhaps that means that we have something special that you never had with anyone else.”

“I _know_ I’ve never had this with anyone else,” she said. “I never wanted it. I never looked for it. And it certainly never looked for me. You barged through every defence I’d put in place and completely ran riot in my safe, organised, tidy little world. And that fucked me up.” Her last words were no more than a soft whisper, laced with pain and fear.

He closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of her head. “I hope you are aware that I will not let you go,” he told her.

“You say that now,” she replied with a quiet, nervous laugh.

“I say it because I mean it,” he corrected. His hand dropped to grip hers, his fingers twisting through hers in a way that was so familiar and comfortable to both of them. “Come on. We’re going home.”


	12. Chapter 12

** CHAPTER TWELVE **

****

Soft light from several candles cast flickering shadows around the comfortable living room.

Thranduil had tossed a pizza in the oven with some garlic bread, and he and Talia had devoured it between them. The obligatory coffee had followed.

She looked at him as he sat across from her, lounged casually against the back of the couch with his knees open. His long blonde hair swept down over his shoulders, his body relaxed and at ease. His mug of coffee rested against one thigh, and his eyes were sleepy.

“Do you need anything else to eat?” he asked. His fingers tickled the ends of hers, just within reaching distance.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “I’m pretty stuffed. That pizza was delicious.”

A lazy smile crossed his face. “Why do I have the feeling that you haven’t been eating as well as you normally do?”

She shrugged. “I eat.”

One eyebrow lifted in a gesture that clearly said _yeah - right._ He shifted slightly, wriggling his backside deeper into the couch. “You can only tell me so many untruths before even I start to question them,” he smirked.

Her cheeks turned deep pink, and she pulled her hand away as she looked away from him.

“Hey,” he said softly, sitting forwards. “I did not mean that the way it sounded, I promise. I merely think that you are into a habit of denying things to yourself, if not to others, perhaps as a defence mechanism. I didn’t mean to wound you, sweetheart. Anything but.”

Clear honesty shone from his eyes.

She poked her tongue against the inside of her cheek, taking a deep breath to settle her nerves. “I used to be a cop,” she told him, her eyes going back to his. “A long time ago.”

He settled back against the couch, listening.

“But I was bored absolutely shitless. _Really_ bored. There just wasn’t enough challenge for me,” she told him. “I came over here on vacation some years ago, to try and find myself, and I went to a shooting range close to where I was staying. I’d always been pretty good with firearms, and had an unbeatable accuracy score. Anyway,” she swallowed, crossing one knee over the other. “It was like something out of a movie script. Someone from the S & S unit was there that day, and liked what he saw.”

“S & S unit?” he asked curiously.

“Save And Secure,” she replied. “A government-run organisation that specialised in taking out threats to prevalent figures, people of distinction, that kind of thing. Glamourized bodyguards, in other words. There’s a thousand tags you could stick on what they did.”

Her gaze drifted off to one side, and he let her mind wander as she talked.

“Before I knew it, they’d assessed my skills, cleared all the paperwork and set me up in a job that finally scratched the itch I’d always had,” she went on. “And I was fucking good at it. Nobody matched my statistics. The job specs were always the same; they’d place their agent in a specific location, and we had to wait for further instructions. As soon as their contact came through with something, we’d be given details of who it was we were protecting, and a basic outline of who from. Nothing more.” Her eyes moved back to his. “I knew I was protecting a cop,” she told him. “I just didn’t know who.”

He nodded slightly.

“By the time I was told, we’d already met… been out for dinner…went to bed together…I was in too deep,” she said. Her voice had softened and grown quieter. “I’d fallen in love, and I was compromising your safety by being involved with you.” Tears burned her eyes, but didn’t fall. “I couldn’t walk away, Thranduil. I couldn’t.”

He reached across and took her hand in his, in a firm grip.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she continued. “I knew Cycnus Azog was a thorn in your department’s side,” she said. “And I knew that Dimitrius Bolg was just as bad a threat. Azog had been making noises that he needed you out of the way, and the unit became nervous – sent me here. Then you arrested Bolg and it looked like the shit was about to hit the fan. Azog stepped up the pressure and put a price on your life.”

He said nothing, his gaze on their joined hands as he flexed his fingers through hers.

“I should have pulled out and disappeared, got someone else to take the assignment,” she said, a wistful tone in her voice. “But I knew that I was the best chance of survival you had. I’ve _never_ lost a target, _never_ missed a shot, _never_ made a bad shoot. I had to stay and see it through. Each time the unit called me, I acted. And I took out every threat sent your way.”

His ice blue eyes lifted to hers, and he saw the pain in the depths.

“I was telling the truth when I told you how long I’d been here,” she whispered. “And in close to my thirteen years, I’ve never fucked up once – until two months ago. You looked right at me as I took out the guy from the car, and I panicked. I dropped the bullet casings and took my glove off to pick them up. I obviously missed one, and that was my cover blown.”

She pulled her hand from his with a weary sigh and stood up, going over to her jacket which hung over the back of a chair. He watched her in alarm, wondering what she was doing. Surely she wasn’t leaving..? His alarm turned to astonishment as she took a pack of cigarettes from the pocket and crossed the lounge, opening the sliding glass doors and stepping out onto the balcony.

He blinked in surprise, shaking his head to clear it. Lifting her abandoned coffee, he rose to his feet and followed her, taking both cups with him.

Her head turned in surprise as her cup appeared at her side, and she glanced up at him before taking it. He reached over and took her cigarette, inhaling deeply on it before handing it back to her.

“I smoke sometimes…when I’m really stressed or upset about something,” he explained with a careless shrug as her eyes widened considerably. “It’s no big deal. Carry on with what you were saying.”

Stunned at his revelation, it took her a few moments to pick up where she’d left off. “I knew when you took Bard’s call that night that I’d fucked up and it was pretty evident you’d find out the truth about me and why I was here,” she said eventually. “There were so many times I’d wanted to tell you; I just didn’t have the guts. I didn’t want to lose you.” Her voice had lowered to a whisper, and she was close to crying. She took a deep draw of her cigarette, exhaling with a sigh. “I knew it was over. And when I got to the precinct and saw Allan’s car, that sealed it for me. I knew I’d lost you.”

He leaned his forearms on the railing next to hers, cradling his cup in both hands as he gazed out over the city. His silence as she’d talked unnerved her. He hadn’t shown any emotion or reaction, and she wasn’t sure what territory she was in.

“Allan freaked out and fired me. I went back to my apartment – don’t ask me how I got there, because I have no idea. Everything was just a mess. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t function. I didn’t know what the hell to do, or where to turn,” she said. “Then I found out the hard way that Bolg had managed to get into the apartment and was waiting for me.”

The gentle breeze ruffled the ends of his hair, the movement catching her eye.

“He was out to kill me,” she whispered. “He broke six ribs, broke every finger on this hand.” She lifted her left hand and wiggled her fingers. “And he absolutely kicked the shit out of me. I had a punctured lung, and internal bleeding. I lost so much blood, I had to have a transfusion. I wanted to give up, Thranduil. I was tired, tired of everything. I just wanted to give up, and was so close. But he said he was going to tear you limb from limb once he was finished with me, and I went ballistic. All I remember is stabbing the knife through his skull and twisting it. He had to die – there was no other way it could’ve ended.”

Thranduil took a drink of his coffee, before reaching over and taking what was left of her cigarette for himself.

“Allan must’ve turned up or something; I don’t know. My next memory is waking up in a hospital somewhere, allsorts of fucking machines and equipment around me,” she said. “He told me that my career was over, I was on my own as soon as I was fit enough to walk again. And for all intents and purposes, I was officially dead. I couldn’t contact you, or anyone, I had to stay out of sight and disappear into the general population.”

His head lowered as he gazed down at his feet. “Why did they turn away from you?” he asked.

She sipped her coffee. “He was pissed because my identity had been blown,” she replied, and glanced at him. “That’s never happened before in the unit, never. He went off his head, said I was irresponsible, I was thinking with what’s in my knickers, and that I couldn’t even organise a rave in a nightclub. Said my performance was utter shit, and I was too much of a liability to have around. If I wanted to stay in the country, I had to go along with playing dead, plus…” She stopped, hesitating.

“Go on,” he prompted gently.

She took a deep breath. “He knew I wanted to keep a discreet eye on you; make sure Azog didn’t backtrack on the hit. The only difference now is that if I take him or anyone else out, I can formally be charged with murder one. I don’t have the cover of the unit as a form of defence anymore.”

He said nothing, just continued to gaze at his feet.

“Azog’s out of the country for a few weeks,” she said, turning her eyes to look out over the city. “I couldn’t leave here right away; I needed closure of some sort. I guess that’s what I was looking for when you found me.”

A few moments passed.

“I haven’t been to work since that night,” he said eventually, his voice soft and distant. “I went completely off at the deep end, flew for your supervisor, had to be dragged off him…the son of a bitch was so cold, so fucking _professional_ and secretive over what had happened in your apartment. He told me that you were dead, I couldn’t see you, and he’d _dispose_ of you. I didn’t take it very well.”

His head lowered further, before he made a visible effort to get himself together.

“Thorin ordered me to take time off, just get away and try to fix myself. I sunk into an abyss of depression and tried to block everything out with alcohol.” He turned his head and looked at her. “It didn’t work.”

She inhaled through her nose, her jaw clenching.

“The agent disappeared to wherever he came from,” he said. “Hopefully straight back to the depths of hell, the bastard.”

“He’s gone back to base,” she said quietly. “He seldom makes an appearance, only if he’s really needed, or the situation’s gone so far out of whack that he needs to step in and sort it.”

He nodded acceptingly. “I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you today,” he whispered. His eyes were fixed on something in the darkness. “I’d gone crazy, not being able to say goodbye to you, not having a grave or… _something…_ anything…to go to. I thought I was hallucinating today, or dreaming, or finally going out of my mind once and for all.”

Tear-filled eyes met his. “I wanted to contact you,” she said, and looked away quickly before her tears betrayed her enough to fall. “I didn’t think it would be welcome. We didn’t exactly part on friendly terms.”

“I was hurting, Talia…I was hurting so badly,” he said. “I thought that our whole relationship was no more than some fucked up façade, and that really cut me to the bone.”

She shook her head in determination, refusing to look at him. “It wasn’t,” she said. “I was so deeply in love, I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, how to control the situation. I was riding on the devil’s coattails straight into hell, and had no idea how to stop it. Everything was way out of control, so far off track. I was scared.”

He sat his empty cup down, reaching over and grasping her hand closest to him in his. “If only we’d talked,” he said softly.

“I know,” she agreed. “So many tears and so much pain could have been avoided.”

He fell silent for a few minutes. “I haven’t cried for anyone since my wife passed away,” he said. “That’s a lot of years of not having the need to show that kind of emotion.” He looked at her. “But I cried for you.”

Hot tears burned her cheeks as they fell. “I’m sorry I made you cry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for not being upfront with you, for hiding everything, for having to disappear…” She broke off as a sob choked her words.

He turned to face her fully and pulled her against his chest, both arms sliding around her in a comforting embrace as he buried his head against her neck. She wrapped her arms around his waist, sobbing against him. Softly murmering words of comfort, he gently kissed her neck and closed his eyes.

“We may be a bit broken, a bit messed up and fucked up, and a bit damaged,” he told her. “But we can fix this.”

She went still in his arms.

“If you want to,” he added hesitantly.

Her head lifted, tear-filled eyes meeting his. “I want to,” she whispered. “You’ve changed my life forever, Thranduil, and I can’t go back to the way it was. I’ve tried, and I can’t do it. I’ve tried _so_ hard to let you go and move on, but I can’t. It hurts too much…”

A soft touch from his fingertip wiped her tears away, clearing the path for more to fall in their place. “Me too,” he whispered back. “I think we can heal each other, and help each other get our lives back on track. I’m willing to try, if you are.”

“If you think we’re strong enough,” she said softly, her eyes searching his.

“Yes. I do,” he told her. “I _know_ we are. All we have to do is to love one another, be true to one another, and believe in one another. I know that I love, trust, and believe in you, sweetheart. More than anything. Even in the darkness I’ve gone through these last weeks, I’ve always loved you, and that will never change. I’ve been lost without you – you left a huge hole in my life that can never be filled by anyone or anything else. Only you.”

Her eyes closed as he lessened the gap between them, his soft mouth tenderly kissing hers. Emotions reared up from the pit of her soul; a mixture of regret, anguish, and the promise of a glimmer of hope on the horizon.

He pulled back slowly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “We can heal each other,” he said. “I will prove it.”

*****

The candles had almost burned completely down to the bottom. The lounge was getting darker as their light receded, but Talia was relaxed and comfortable.

She’d freshened up and changed, settling in a shirt of Thranduil’s and her underwear, curled up on the couch with her feet pulled up. He’d gone to have a shower, and she was left alone with her thoughts.

A soft sound dragged her back to the present, and she looked up to see him approaching the settee. Dressed in black shorts and a V-necked black t-shirt, the image of him took her back to the first night they’d spent together, the night they’d gone for dinner and she’d eventually showed up at his apartment.

The couch dipped a little as he sat down, leaning towards her slightly with his right arm resting along the back of the furniture. The fresh aroma of shower gel drifted from him as his ice blue eyes held hers.

Neither of them spoke.

He lifted his left hand and slid it around her neck, his fingers snug in the hair at the base of her skull as he tugged her closer. His warm lips touched hers in a gentle kiss, an inquisitive kiss, as though he was questioning her acceptance and how far to take things.

She responded, leaning in to him and opening her mouth in an invitation for him to go further. He did. She moaned softly as his tongue intruded, slowly winding around hers in a kiss so erotic, she felt flames engulf her from her toes upwards.

His right hand lowered from the back of the couch and ran gently up her thigh, spreading heat where his flesh made contact with hers. She shifted slightly so she faced him, stretching her leg out behind him. Likewise, he moved also, settling himself closer in the widened gap she’d created for him.

Soft kisses touched her cheeks and back to her mouth, before lowering to her neck.

“I want you so much, my darling,” he murmered against her. “I need you like there’s no tomorrow. I want to make love to you like it’s the first time and the last time all over again, where nothing else can ever hurt us again. Where it’s just you and I, and everything else ceases to exist.” Blue eyes clouded with passion gazed into hers as he lifted his head. “Will you allow me to do that? Will you allow me to make love to you?”

She tangled her hands in his hair, her eyes determined and focused. “No. I won’t let you make love to me,” she whispered. “But I _will_ demand that you make love _with_ me.”

His breath left him in a rush as he crushed her mouth under his, both hands moving to her waist to lift her over him. He settled her astride his thighs as he deftly pulled her underwear down, tossing them aside. She relaxed her weight against him, returning his kiss with equal passion that she felt flowing from him. Large hands drifted up and down her thighs, pulling her even closer against his chest.

She tipped her head a little, changing the angle and depth of the kiss, and put every shred of love she had into it.

He heard her unspoken words, felt the strong pull between them, and responded. Slow, unhurried movements resulted in the front of her shirt being undone, the fabric gently swept aside and tender hands trailing up her torso to cup her breasts.

This was making love with feeling and emotion, not frantic mating to ease an ache. It was two souls connecting as they tried to heal each other’s hurts and re-establish the bond they’d once shared. It was two battered, bruised, and bleeding hearts seeking solace and warmth within the other.

Talia whimpered as Thranduil leisurely rubbed his thumbs across her nipples. He smiled into the kiss, amused at how easily and how fast she could be turned on.

“I love the way your body responds to me,” he whispered against her. “I could be forgiven for thinking that you have a need that only I can take care of.”

She slid her hands under the front of his t-shirt, flexing her fingers against the taut stomach muscles that greeted her. “Maybe that’s because only you can relieve the craving in me,” she replied, twisting her head to kiss his neck. “I’ve never had anyone do to me what you do. No-one has _ever_ had this effect on me, made me need them so much, made me come so fucking hard…”

His eyes held hers as he shifted his weight, freeing himself from his shorts. Her pupils dilated even more as she felt his length spring free, rubbing against the junction in between her thighs. Her toes flexed as she moved her hips on him, allowing him to slide back and forth against the wet heat that waited for him, and his lips parted in a silent gasp. She tilted her hips a fraction, moaning softly as he eased inside. His strong hands gripped her hips, his eyes never leaving hers.

He pushed deep inside her, flexing once he was buried to the hilt, and she rocked in response.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered. “I’ve needed you so much…needed to touch you, to kiss you…”

“Then feel free to indulge yourself,” he murmered, rubbing her nose with his before tilting his head to press his open mouth against hers. Soft whimpers and murmers filled the air as they moved together, her impatient hands finally pulling his t-shirt off and roaming over the contours of his chest. He sat up straighter and wound his arms around her back, crushing her body flush against his. Heat blazed between them, her soft breasts pressed against solid muscle and silky-soft skin. Her hands took on a life of their own, exploring every inch of flesh she could reach. His arms, his waist and back, his neck and throat, finally settling in his hair as she held him. Panting breaths between heated kisses fluttered over one another, hands alternating between gripping, caressing, squeezing, and tenderly stroking.

She bucked against him as he took the weight of her breasts in his hands, teasing her nipples and making her insides clench tightly around him.

“Yes, baby…like that,” he whispered. “Squeeze me tighter…”

She complied, her body reacting how it wanted without her consent anyway. She felt him shudder as her muscles clenched hard, a deep moan leaving his throat as he closed his eyes and leaning his head back against the couch.

“I want to hear you scream,” he gasped, dropping his hands back to her hips. “I want you to come so hard, you’ll never want to leave again.”

She swallowed as she pulled his head back towards her, encouraging him to look into her eyes. “I’ll never leave again,” she promised. “Ever. I’m never walking away from you again, no matter what happens between us, how often we fight, how many times we get angry with each other. Even if you push me away, I’m staying.”

“Good,” he growled, crushing her mouth with his own as he flipped over and pinned her under his body, driving hard into her. “Because I’m never letting you go.”

One arm wound under her thigh and lifted her leg higher, his hand braced against the soft fabric of the couch. Kisses that increased in intensity and passion flowed between them as he plunged deeper with each stroke, hurtling both of them towards satisfaction. The settee creaked under them, the springs protesting as they moved together, but they didn’t hear.

They didn’t care.

She cried out as her body began the climb towards ultimate pleasure, her fingers digging into the taut muscles of his biceps. “Thranduil,” she gasped. “Oh my God, Thranduil…”

His teeth bit her lower lip and a swipe of his tongue soothed the flesh. “Come for me,” he whispered.

Staring up into his ice blue eyes, her body jerked and shuddered as she climbed higher, exploding with a muffled scream as he ground his mouth down onto hers. Strong arms tightened around her to hold her steady underneath him as he plunged harder into her, desperate to join her. His movements became choppy as he missed his rhythm, bursting within her with a growl that sounded like it had come from a mountain lion.

He panted hard for breath, ever mindful that she was a lot smaller than him and also injured, as his arms shook with the effort of holding his full weight from her. He pressed butterfly kisses against her neck and along her cheek to her mouth, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against hers.

He was home.


	13. Chapter 13

** CHAPTER THIRTEEN **

****

Dawn slowly emerged, with the first rays of daylight creeping along the horizon in shades of pink and orange.

Thranduil watched the gradual change in the sky, the fingers of his left hand playing idly in Talia’s long hair. Her head rested in the curve between his neck and shoulder, her arm across his abdomen. She’d slept deeply, waking only once to his exploring mouth and wet kisses as he took them both to immense pleasure in the darkness.

He sighed softly.

Reality was calling, and sooner or later, they would both have to return to it.

“What’s on your mind, Blondie?” she murmered, slowly waking in his arms. She lifted her head and gazed at him, her eyes groggy and clouded with sleep.

He smiled. “I’m just thinking that sooner or later, we will have to return to some sort of normality,” he answered, his deep voice sending ripples of pleasure down her spine. He felt the slight shudder, and touched his full mouth against hers in a tender kiss.

She moaned quietly in response, and he smiled as he pulled back again and rested his head on the pillows.

“I know we have to start living again,” she murmered as she traced a finger down the curve of his Adam’s apple. Her eyes lifted to his. “But I could honestly give it the biggest body-swerve in history.”

His gaze followed her as she flopped over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling above them. His free hand rested on her hip as he contemplated her words. “What have you been surviving on? Where have you been staying all this time?” he asked.

“Once I was released from the hospital I went to a motel about forty miles from here,” she told him, closing her eyes.

“And work?”

She opened them again. “I’ve been alright financially so far,” she replied. “Killing people pays pretty well, and I saved a lot over the years.”

He smiled at her words. “You make it sound like you’re a bad person,” he remarked.

“Aren’t I?” Deep blue eyes looked into his. “How would you introduce me to anyone? _Hi, this is my girlfriend. She kills people._ ”

He tipped his head back and laughed.

Her heart missed a beat at the exposed length of his throat, and she swallowed, looking away.

“No, I would definitely _not_ introduce you like that,” he said, looking back at her with amusement in his eyes.

“Told you,” she said.

His smile vanished. “I’d introduce you as my wife.”

Her face drained of colour as her eyes widened in shock.

He quirked an eyebrow, waiting on some sort of response from her. “Well?”

Her mouth opened and closed, then opened again. And closed again, with nothing coming out.

Lifting himself up onto one elbow, he looked into her eyes. “Marry me, my little kitty,” he said softly.

She swallowed, gazing up at him leaning over her, tears welling in her eyes. “Why…” she whispered, trailing off as words vanished.

He snorted. “Because I love you? Because I want to be with you for the rest of my life?” he suggested. “Because I want you at my side, day and night? Because I want to share showers with you, argue over the freshest oranges in the supermarket with you, yell at you when you’re being stubborn and pig-headed, and sink deep between your legs every chance I get? Because I want you to take my name the way you’ve taken my heart, Talia. I want to make you mine, in every sense of the word. I want forever.”

Two tears trailed down her face, one from each eye, disappearing into her hair. “I’m not good enough for you,” she whispered brokenly.

He frowned. “Says who?” he demanded.

“I say,” she said.

“Well I’m going to get all masterful and commanding, and tell you that you’re talking complete and utter shit,” he said. “Forget whatever has happened between us. Look to what we can have ahead of us.”

Thick dark lashes blinked as she held his penetrating gaze.

“Marry me,” he coaxed in a soft whisper.

She pulled her lips in as she nodded, more tears flowing. “Yes,” she whispered shakily. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“Good!” he decided, grinning as he lowered his mouth to hers. He rumbled deep in his chest somewhere as his lips coaxed hers open, allowing his inquisitive tongue entry.

She slid her hands up around the sides of his neck, her thumbs against his cheeks. Pulling back a little as they broke for air, she gazed up into his eyes.

“Are you nuts?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes.” That made her laugh, and he grinned as he whipped his head round and playfully nipped at one of her thumbs. “I’m nuts about you, my darling. Totally and completely nuts. Irredeemably nuts. Strait-jacket nuts. Off-this-planet nuts. Does that answer your question?” His eyes sparkled as he grinned down at her. He toyed with the ends of her hair for a few moments, before lifting himself up from her and getting out of the bed and stretching.

Her eyes followed his movements, taking in every detail of the magnificent naked body before her.

“I’m going to call Bard later,” he said, glancing at her over his shoulder. “And stop looking at me like you want to eat me, or I’ll get back in there and keep you there for a week.”

She laughed, throwing her legs over the edge of the bed and getting up. “I might hold you to that,” she said, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as she passed. “I needa use the bathroom. Won’t be a sec.”

He sighed melodramatically as he planted his hands on his hips. “You are a sneak,” he accused. “You know that’s where I was going.”

“Get used to it,” she called back from behind the semi-closed bathroom door. “I couldn’t wait.” A few seconds later she reappeared, drying her hands on a soft white fluffy towel. “You said you’re going to call Bard,” she said softly.

Concerned eyes watched her. “Yes.”

She nodded, her gaze on the towel as though it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Why? Does that present a problem?” he asked, moving towards her.

She looked up at him, and the dread in her eyes was almost palpable. “No.”

It only took him a moment or two to tap into her thoughts. “You are worried about his reaction to all this,” he said, his voice quiet. “You think he will judge you.”

“He has every right to,” she said, turning to toss the towel back in through the open doorway.

“No, he does not,” he corrected, stepping towards her and taking her hands. “He is my partner at work, and my friend, but he is _not_ my keeper. He can have his own opinion, but as long as he keeps it to himself, I see no reason why it should cause any problem. You worry too much, my little kitty.”

“You went through hell because of me, of what I did,” she reminded him.

“And I suffered alone? I think not,” was his response. A finger tipped her chin up. “I can see a difference in you, Talia. A _big_ difference. And it’s not a good one.”

She didn’t answer him.

“You’ve lost your fight,” he said softly. “Your inner flame has been extinguished somewhat. And I intend to reignite that flame. Bard’s or anyone else’s thoughts on the matter mean nothing.”

“I know he’s not going to be too happy with me,” she told him. “And I can’t fault him for that. I hurt you really bad, and I have to live with that. But I wouldn’t have done it the way I did if your life didn’t mean so much. And I’m not talking about to the precinct, or to the cops you work with, or your arrest and conviction record…I’m talking about to _me._ I shouldn’t have become involved with you, but I did, and I didn’t have the strength to walk away when I found out you were the target. That’s _my_ error of judgement, it’s my cross to bear. Every single beat of my heart was screaming at me to either come clean and tell you everything, or to walk away and not look back. Either way, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you.” She stopped, taking a deep breath. “Your friends _are_ going to turn on me, I know that. I just have to prepare myself for what’s coming.”

Ice blue eyes held hers the whole time she was talking.

“I will say this once, Talia, and only once,” he said decidedly. “You have not agreed to marry Bard, or any of my other friends. You agreed to marry me. My opinion is what counts, not theirs. They are irrelevant. If they cannot be happy for me, then I do not need them. It’s that simple. I need only you.”

Her eyes lowered to the silky hair that flowed over his shoulders and down his strong, muscled chest, her fingers lifting to touch it. “They’re an important part of your life, and you’ve known them a long, long time,” she pointed out. “Whereas you haven’t known me all that long.”

“And I do not need to, to know what I feel,” he replied.

Deep blue eyes met his. “What if it makes your life at work more difficult?” she asked. “You need these guys for backup, you have to work with them for twelve hour shifts, sometimes more. They’re deeply ingrained in your life, baby. You can’t deny that.”

“No, and neither would I want to,” he told her. “However, the fact remains that it _is_ my life, not theirs. I do not impose my opinions or thoughts on theirs or what they do, and I do not expect them to do it with mine. They probably _will_ be a little sceptical and distrustful, but they’ll have to learn to deal with that.”

“And if they don’t? You can’t cut off years of friendships because of me, Thranduil.”

He frowned. “Yes, I can. And I will. Just watch me,” he said, his eyes angry. “I will not allow anything to come between us again, Talia. I told you last night that I will never let you go, and I will stay true to my words. You only have to believe in me.”

“I do,” she whispered. “I believe in you more than you could ever realise.”

“Then know that you have nothing to worry about,” he said gently, and brushed his mouth over hers. “Now I have to use the amenities and get dressed, or else I _will_ take you back to bed and keep you there for the next week. That’s a promise.”

She shared his smile, stealing one more kiss in the process, before stepping around him in search of her clothes.

*****

Talia made a mammoth effort to force the tidal wave of nerves that rocked through her stomach as Thranduil took her hand and closed the car door behind her. She gave him a bright smile, encouraged by his slight nod.

“Everything will be fine,” he assured her as they turned towards the house. “I will not let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” she said. Her feet crunched on the gravel as they walked, and she concentrated on the sound with each step.

Her head lifted as the door of the house opened, and Bard appeared.

“Hey, Thran! I…” He trailed off, frowning in confusion. Brown eyes shifted between the couple, awash with questions and thoughts. “What the actual _fuck…_?!”

Talia’s back stiffened slightly, but she didn’t show it.

“We need to talk, Bard,” Thranduil said.

“Aye…we fucking do,” he snapped, turning on his heel and storming back inside.

“Breathe,” Thranduil said quietly, sensing her apprehension. “I’m at your side, and that’s where I will remain. Trust in me, little kitty.”

She swallowed. “I’m alright,” she said.

He slid an unconvinced glance down at her, but said nothing further as they went up the few steps into the house.

“I don’t fucking believe it!” Bard’s angry voice was yelling from the kitchen. “After _everything_ she’s fucking put him through, and now they show up holding hands?!? Have I gone mad or something??”

Thorin’s voice drifted from the room, low, hushed tones that did nothing to quell his friend’s rage and frustration.

“Thorin,” Thranduil said coolly as he and Talia stepped into the room.

“Guys,” he returned by way of greeting. He looked a little uncomfortable, whereas Bard’s angry eyes flashed fire as he glared towards them.

“I can’t believe that you’ve done this,” he hissed, slamming his cup down onto the worktop beside him. “I thought you had more sense, goddammit.”

“And I thought you would take the stance that is expected of you, and restrain your anger,” Thranduil retorted. “There is a lot that you are not aware of – both of you. Things which have only just recently come to the surface.”

Bard stormed towards them, stopping just before her. “You were fucking _dead!”_  he roared. “You put him through hell!” One finger jabbed angrily in Thranduil’s direction. “He lost the fucking will to live because of the lies you told him, the fucking grief you put him through!” He’d closed the gap between them, leaning down to yell in her face.

Thranduil swiped his free arm between them, pushing him back with force. “Do not do this, Bard,” he warned, his tone loaded with warning. “Hear what we have to say.”

“I will hear nothing!” he yelled. “I have no time for this worthless, lying, two-faced whore!”

Thranduil dropped Talia’s hand and grabbed him by the front of his clothing, hauling him towards him. “I will give you this one warning. You do not speak to her like that, you do not call her that, and you do not have the right to cast judgement when you know _nothing.”_

“I do not want her in my house either!” he snarled.

The blonde shoved him hard, making him stumble backwards.

Thorin observed quietly, his eyes flickering between the three of them.

“Maybe I should go,” Talia said quietly, glancing at Thranduil as she stuffed her hands in her jeans pockets.

“Yes, maybe you _should,_ ” Bard spat.

“No,” Thranduil said. “Bard, sit your fucking arse down and listen for once in your life.”

“Will I hell,” he snorted in disgust. “We’ve been partners for fucking _years,_ Thran. We’ve been through hell together. We know each other inside out. I’d take a goddamned bullet for you! And you pull _this_ bloody stunt? What the hell is so special about her that you’re thinking with your fucking dick again?!”

Talia lurched forwards and grabbed Thranduil’s arm as he pulled his fist back, intent on punching his partner out. “Don’t,” she whispered. “I’m not worth all this aggro.”

“I’ll tell you what’s so special about her,” he roared, ignoring her. “I love her! There’s much more to this whole mess than you could ever comprehend, so do _not_ talk like she’s a piece of shit, Bard, because she’s not. I thought as my so-called _friend_ you would at least have the decency to give us the benefit of the doubt and listen to what we have to say.” His furious eyes landed on her as he turned his head, to find her still clamped onto his arm. “Let go, baby,” he said softly. “He’s not worth it.”

She slowly released her hold on him, her eyes never leaving his. “I think I’ll go,” she told him.

“No,” he said again. His angry gaze flipped back to his partner. “You owe her an apology.”

“I owe her nothing,” he snapped.

“Bard…calm down and hear whatever they have to say,” Thorin advised from his position over by the sink where he leaned against the worktop. “You’ve known Thran a long, long time, and you know that he doesn’t make foolish decisions.”

“There’s a first for everything,” he retorted. He tipped his head up to meet Thranduil’s stormy eyes. “I’m not interested.”

“Fine,” he growled, grabbing her hand in his. “Thorin, I want a new partner.”

Talia gasped, but his fingers squeezed hers tighter in warning.

“Thran-“ Thorin began.

“I mean it!” he thundered, turning to glare at him. “I refuse to work with this stubborn son of a bitch. A new partner, or a transfer. You choose.”

Talia’s horrified gaze went from him to Bard and finally to Thorin, as she was steered away and marched down the hallway towards the door. “Babe, wait,” she gasped. “Think about this!”

He glanced at her, not slowing his stride. “I have. There’s nothing to think about.”

She groaned in despair as he threw the door open and stepped outside with her.

The sound of footsteps hurrying after them met their ears, but he ignored them.

“Thran! Thran, wait,” Thorin panted, catching up with them.

They stopped.

“Give me ten minutes, and meet me in the diner down the block,” he suggested. “Just give me ten minutes to settle Bard. Please.”

Thranduil looked at Talia, who nodded slightly.

“You have to,” she said softly. “Not for me. For you and him. For the partnership and the bond you both have.”

A few seconds passed and he finally nodded once. “Fine. Ten minutes,” he said, turning and tugging her down the steps and across the gravelled drive. Opening the passenger door, he took his hand from hers and slid it across her lower back as she climbed inside.

Thorin watched the tender gesture, thinking to himself that yes, there undoubtedly was a lot that no-one but the couple knew, and those things needed to be aired.

Thranduil closed her door and rounded the car, his icy eyes meeting his over the roof before he climbed in. Gravel shot out from the tyres as he accelerated away.

Thorin took a deep breath and looked at the sky above him.


	14. Chapter 14

** CHAPTER FOURTEEN **

****

Thranduil’s fingers flexed around Talia’s wrist, which lay on the table between them. His thumb idly stroked the sensitive skin, his gaze on her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Ice blue eyes flashed up to hers. “For what?” he asked incredulously.

She shrugged. “Everything,” she answered. “For coming between you and Bard.”

He leaned forwards a little. “You haven’t come between him and me,” he told her. “He’ll come around in his own time. And if he doesn’t? Fuck him. I don’t care.” He straightened, catching sight of Thorin getting out of his car and crossing the street to the diner they were in. “Thorin’s here.”

The bell above the door clanged, announcing his entry, and her back stiffened slightly. The blonde facing her arched one eyebrow in silent warning for her to relax.

“Guys,” Thorin said, sliding into the booth beside Thranduil.

“Thorin,” he said, his tone even and calm.

The newcomer sighed, running his hands through his hair which was pulled back into an untidy ponytail. “Bard’s going off his rocker,” he said. “But I don’t need to tell you that.”

“No, you don’t,” he replied, his gaze back on Talia’s wrist. His thumb continued to rub little circles on the inside of the joint. “He’s out of order.”

“He’s worried about you,” Thorin said quietly. “Talk to me, man. Tell me what the hell’s happened. We all thought you were dead, Talia. That’s what we were told.”

She nodded. “I know. And I apologise for that,” she said.

Thranduil glanced up at her sharply. “You do not apologise to anyone other than myself, is that clear?” he said. “Which you have already done, numerous times, and will do no more. You do not apologise to anyone else.”

Her cheeks tinged a light pink at the controlled anger in his words, and her eyes lowered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, aware that he’d been harsh. “I want you to understand that nobody else counts in this relationship except you and I, that’s all. I didn’t mean to be so abrupt.”

She nodded, pulling her lips in.

“Tell me everything you can,” Thorin prompted. “Fill me in on what’s happened. And for what it’s worth, Talia…” he glanced at her. “I’m glad you’re alive.” A sympathetic smile accompanied his words, and she tentatively smiled back.

Thranduil raised one hand and signalled for three coffees.

*****

Thorin shook his head, which as the conversation wound down, had rested in his hands. “My God,” he muttered. Glazed eyes looked up at his two companions. “What a fucked up mess.”

Talia’s eyes lowered to the table between them, where her wrist still rested in Thranduil’s gentle hold. His fingers were wrapped around it, his thumb never having ceased rubbing circles in tender movements. “Yeah…that’s one way of putting it,” she agreed in a low voice.

Thorin leaned back, sliding his elbows off the table. “I can see both sides, so damned clearly,” he said. “I can see why you had to keep silent on your mission, Talia, and I can see why you were so hurt, Thran.”

The blonde nodded slightly, remaining quiet.

“What I can’t fucking understand is why that bastard agent insisted on saying you’d died,” Thorin continued, gesturing towards her. “Now I don’t feel so bad for you knocking him out in my office.” The latter was directed at his colleague sat next to him.

Talia gasped. “You did what?”

Guilty eyes met hers. “The fucker deserved it, and a lot more,” he growled. “And he’s lucky that I was in a state of shock and that Bard was with me later that night when he said you were dead, and for me to basically get lost. Otherwise I’d have-“

“It doesn’t matter,” Thorin interrupted, wanting to divert the escalating anger he could feel coming towards him in strong, pulsating waves. “The guy’s an arsehole, and he’s not part of the equation anymore.” He stopped, his eyes darting between the two. “I have _one_ question, and one only.”

Two pairs of eyes looked at him.

“Do you guys _really_ love each other?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” they both said in unison.

“I have asked Talia to be my wife,” Thranduil said. He looked back at her with a smile. “And she has said yes.” His smile widened, and she smiled back.

Thorin tipped his head back, blinking up at the ceiling of the diner. “Ok,” he decided, tipping it back forwards again. “That’s all that matters. Nothing else is important. However, Azog still remains with a huge-ass question mark over his head, because he’s going to react when he finds out Talia’s in fact very much alive.”

She took a deep breath. “If I shoot anyone now, I’m looking at prosecution the same as a civilian,” she said. “That’s what I am now. I’m not under the umbrella of the agency anymore. But I’ll take the bastard out anyway.”

Thranduil looked at her in shock. “You can’t,” he said.

She poked her tongue against the inside of her cheek as she regarded him. “Watch me,” she said after a few seconds. “My job back when all this started was to keep you alive. And because I’ve fallen in love with you, I still have the same goal, only tenfold. He’s not going to get anywhere near you.”

Thorin toyed with a napkin, his eyes on it as he frowned. “That makes sense,” he murmered, lost in thought. “I may have an idea.”

“Which is?” Thranduil asked.

“Talia used to be a cop,” he said. “Why don’t we make her one again?”

Silence fell over the trio.

“No,” Thranduil said finally.

She frowned at him. “Why not?”

“Because it’s far too dangerous,” he replied. His gaze remained firmly focused on her wrist, giving her the impression that shielded behind the closed mask, his mind was more active than he wanted anyone to be aware.

She leaned towards him. “And the last twelve, nearly thirteen years of my life hasn’t been?” she questioned. “If I go back on the force, I can still keep you safe.”

Ice blue glared at her. “No.”

Thorin’s eyes met hers, and he subtly lifted an eyebrow.

She shook her head. “No. I’m not going behind his back,” she said. “I almost lost him because of lies and deceit. No more.”

Thranduil slanted his colleague a sideways glance. “Do not even _attempt_ to imply what I think you’re suggesting,” he warned. “I’ll punch you into next month, Thorin…make no mistake about it.”

Talia shook her head. “We’ll talk about it,” she told Thorin.

“We will not,” Thranduil said. “The answer is no.”

“Fuck sake,” she hissed in exasperation. “You know better than _anybody_ the lengths I went to, to keep you safe, goddammit. You might just end up needing me again, you don’t know.”

The anger that blazed in his eyes would have made the most stubborn rhino back down in submission, but he wasn’t dealing with a stubborn rhino, and he knew it. He was dealing with a trained killer, one who was highly skilled in her craft. And one who was in love. One who would undoubtedly turn the planet they were on inside out and upside down to keep him safe, realigning the rest of the solar system while she was at it.

He watched the different shades of dark blue that made up her irises, which were focused on him. Her thoughts played out in her eyes like a movie, and were so clear to him across the few feet between them. Her mind was made up, and he knew it.

Heaving a weary sigh, he leaned back against the backrest of his seat. “We’ll discuss it,” he conceded. “At length.”

“It’s something worth considering,” Thorin said. “Hey – I’m trying to help you guys, not sabotage a fragile relationship.”

“It’s not fragile,” he shot back. “The only thing that’s fragile is the ice everyone around me is walking on right now, regarding Talia and myself.”

“Leave Bard to me,” Thorin said. “Let him fester in his own stubborn pig-headedness for the time being. He’s only being protective because of the tight bond you two have, and he doesn’t want to see you hurt. He’s been devastated lately, Thran. He wanted to reach out to you, to help you through what was going on around you.”

“He cares,” Talia said simply, with a shrug. “I can’t blame him for that. I just wasn’t prepared for how furious he was going to be.”

Her companion waved dismissively. “He’ll come around, just give him time,” he said. “These guys are the closest to brothers you’ll get without a blood bond. It’ll work out, trust me. And no, Blondie – you’re not getting a new partner or a transfer. So pull that mane of hair back and give those thoughts a way to escape from that thick head of yours.”

She smiled to herself, hiding it from her other half.

Who caught her amusement anyway, but said nothing.

“I want to help you,” Thorin stated. “I really do. You haven’t had the best start in a relationship, so God knows you both deserve some peace and quiet time to adjust to everything. Thran, we _do_ need you back at the precinct, buddy, but take another few weeks off. Make sure you’re refreshed and ready to handle whatever’s going to be thrown.”

Beside him, Thranduil nodded. “Fine. I’m thinking of taking Talia away for a few days; anywhere, just to get away and be by ourselves for a while.”

“Good idea,” he said. “And forget everything here. Call me when you feel you’re ready to come back.” He rose to his feet, reaching for his wallet to pay for the coffee.

Thranduil scowled and waved him away.

On impulse, he quickly leaned down and kissed Talia’s cheek. “It’s good to have you back,” he said, straightening before the blonde could lamp him for touching his lover. “Better for him, and therefore better for the human race all round.”

She smiled as he left the diner, the bell clanging as the door closed behind him. Her eyes turned back to Thranduil, who still held her wrist and was watching her steadily.

“I have a feeling that we’re going to have a particularly heated discussion regarding his suggestion,” he said. “But not now, please. I can’t cope with everything that’s torturing my head right now.”

She nodded in agreement. “I understand. There will be a time and a place where it’s more appropriate to talk about it, but right here and now is neither. I feel absolutely exhausted, like I haven’t slept in days.”

“Come on,” he said suddenly, standing up and tugging her to her feet.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

He led her over to the cashier to pay for their coffee. “We’re going to the motel you’ve been staying in,” he informed her, handing a twenty dollar bill over. “And we’re going to get all your things together. Move everything into my apartment.” He glanced down at her. “ _Our_ apartment.”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she held his gaze, and he smiled as he saw the tell-tale moisture gather on her long eyelashes. Lowering his head, he gently swept his mouth over hers with a soft kiss that promised the future.

“I love you, my little kitty,” he whispered.

She gave him a shaky smile, her emotions haywire. “I love you too,” she whispered back.

He grinned, taking his change and stuffing it into his jeans pocket, before leading her out of the diner.

*****

Thranduil sat cross-legged on the carpet, flipping through photograph albums. Pictures of a much younger Talia were displayed on the pages, each one giving him a clearer image into the history of the woman he’d fallen in love with.

Pictures showed her larking around with her colleagues, fellow officers who’d worked alongside her before she’d taken up her role thousands of miles from home. Pictures of her in her old house, again from before she’d moved. Pictures of her climbing trees and laughing with friends, pictures of her with different animals.

The pages turned as he absorbed each photo, a small smile curving his full mouth often as he moved from one to the other. Throughout each picture, one thing had remained unchanged.

The fire in her eyes.

Behind him, Talia sat on the edge of the armchair, her legs parted so he sat in the space of her thighs with his back to her. Patient and gentle hands brushed his long hair as she sang along with the cd she’d put on.

“ _The first time we met time stood still_

_You left me breathless, suddenly speechless._

_Within the hour we were one, two total strangers kissing the moonlight._

_Oh, you know I'm sorry I had to go_

_I'm really sorry it had to die_

_I'm really sorry I made you cry_

_Cry.“_

His eyes lifted as the emotion in her words touched his soul.

Her fingers gently worked through his hair, her mind on the lyrics.

“ _We fell in love between the nights, of too many lovers and too many teardrops._

_And fate won't resist some satin sheets_

_I was so helpless, totally ruthless._

_Oh, you know I'm sorry I had to go_

_I'm really sorry you're hurt inside_

_I'm really sorry I made you cry_

_Cry, cry._ ”

He turned, shifting round on his backside, the albums sliding from his lap to land on the carpet. His eyes met hers, and he saw the tears that were just waiting to fall from the deep blue eyes that were filled with anguish.

Taking the brush from her and setting it on the floor, he rose to his knees and pressed his warm lips against hers. Her breath caught slightly, but she pulled herself together and returned his kiss. He slowly and reluctantly broke the intimate contact, pulling back just far enough so that he could look at her.

“The song is beautiful,” he whispered. “What is it?”

She swallowed. “Roxette – I’m Sorry,” she answered.

“You have a voice that melts into my blood when you sing,” he said, still in a whisper. “And the lyrics of that song are beautiful. But do not sing it, little kitty. Do not sing it.”

Confusion flooded her eyes. “I love that song,” she said, by way of both an explanation of why she’d chosen to sing it, and questioning his plea.

He nodded. “I know. I have heard you sing it a few times in the past as you’ve moved around doing different things. But it is too sad a song, my darling. And I know that right now, it is upsetting you. You are not singing the words as they were written – you are singing them from your soul, and your soul is still hurting and bleeding.”

A tear slowly slid down her face, and he leaned back towards her and tenderly kissed it away.

“What has happened, has happened,” he whispered against her cheek. “We cannot change it. We cannot undo it. But we _can_ move on from it, and grow. We can flourish together and become strong; stronger than we ever were. But you have to let go of the pain and the guilt that lies within you for you to do so.”

“It’s so hard,” she whispered.

“I know,” he agreed. “I keep looking at you when I think you’re distracted, just to prove to myself that you’re really here, you’re really alive, and you’re really with me. I know how hard it is. But we have to, Talia. We have to try to bury what happened and start over.”

“I don’t deserve to have this chance with you, this chance at life again,” she said. “Not after what I did.”

He gazed down into her eyes, contemplating his next words as he threaded the fingers of one hand through her hair. What she was saying made sense, but he knew she had to release the guilt that she’d firmly saddled herself with. “If I can forgive you for what happened, then you must forgive yourself,” he said eventually. “You had valid reasons for keeping your true motive to yourself – I understand that. I may not have been happy when I discovered the truth, but I understand why you did it. And I still love you. I love you more than ever having had you taken from me. That has to count for something.”

“It does,” she whispered brokenly as another tear fell.

He lifted the remote and pointed it at the cd player, turning it off. The music was doing nothing but grate on her already damaged and injured emotions. Turning back to her, he chewed his bottom lip as he stared at her. “Switch places,” he said suddenly.

“What?” She frowned in confusion.

“Imagine I was you, and you were me,” he explained. “I come into your life, we start a relationship and fall in love. You find out I’ve been drafted in to keep you safe, but I haven’t told you. What do you do?”

He waited.

She blinked. “We’d talk about it,” she said, as though it was plainly obvious. “We’d get through it.”

“And if you’d been told I’d died, and you’d mourned and grieved, and went to pieces for two months, only to find out I was still alive?” he pushed.

“I’d chase you to the ends of the world to have you back,” she whispered.

He smiled. “Which is what I’m willing to do if that is what it takes,” he said. “See? You are trying to put one rule in place for everyone else, and a different one for yourself. Life does not work like that, my love. Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

She nodded slowly.

“We love each other,” he said softly. “And we’re going to build our lives together, come hell or high water. Nothing is going to stand in our way, or tear us down. Hold on to that, little kitty. That is all that matters.”

Her eyes closed as he touched his mouth to hers again, losing herself in the love and strength that flowed through his kiss.


	15. Chapter 15

** CHAPTER FIFTEEN **

****

Talia laughed heartily as she walked alongside Thranduil, one hand held firmly in his, the other swinging a shopping bag at her side. The sun was out, the weather was warm, her lover was at her side, and he was making her laugh like she’d never laughed before.

Life was good.

Her step faltered and her laughter faded as she caught sight of a dark blue four-wheeled drive parked by the sidewalk. Beside her, Thranduil’s pace slowed, and she felt the tension bleed from his body into hers through their joined hands.

Bard slowly stepped out of the vehicle, his eyes on them as he closed the door.

She glanced up at Thranduil, whose jaw clenched as he assessed their visitor.

Bard waited patiently as they approached.

“I…uh…I think we need to talk,” he said as they stopped in front of him.

Thranduil stared at him, calculating his friend’s intentions. “I will not have you saying derogatory things to Talia, or upsetting her,” he said.

Bard shook his head. “That’s not my intention, or my purpose,” he said.

The blonde regarded him, pursing his full mouth. “Fine,” he said after a tense silence. “Come on up.” He stepped past him, leading her into the building. Her eyes remained lowered as she passed his partner. As they approached the stairs, she hesitated, waiting for Bard to walk up them alongside his friend. Thranduil insistently pulled her along with him with a sharp glance, making him walk behind them.

Once they’d reached the apartment, again she pulled back, expecting the two males to enter first. Thranduil clenched his teeth and firmly but gently pulled her inside, leaving Bard to follow.

He released her hand and strode through to the kitchen, tossing the bag he’d taken from her onto the worktop and turning to face their guest. An uneasy silence lingered.

“Coffee?” Talia asked, finally breaking the tension.

Bard’s unsteady gaze met hers briefly. “Sure,” he replied.

Thranduil stood leaning against the worktop, his arms folded over his chest, one ankle crossed over the other, and waited.  Talia moved around beside him, not meeting his eyes as she switched the kettle on and set everything up for three mugs of coffee.

“I want to apologise,” Bard said eventually. “I said things which I had no right saying, and I overstepped the line. I’m sorry.” His gaze remained somewhere on the floor as he spoke.

Thranduil took a deep breath. “What’s brought this on?” he questioned. His voice held no accusation, but did hold a tone that said loud and clear that he wasn’t going to tolerate any bullshit.

Bard sighed. “Thorin spent over two hours at my place last night,” he admitted. “He told me everything, and made me face facts. He made me see that I’ve been an arsehole and I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, and for that, I apologise to both of you.”

Talia nodded, having turned to stand beside her lover as she waited for the kettle to boil. “That’s ok,” she said, her voice quieter than normal.

“No, it’s not,” he said. “I spoke way out of turn, and I said things I had no business saying. I called you a horrible name, and that’s not acceptable.”

“You’re right,” Thranduil acknowledged.

“So I just want to put out there that I truly _am_ sorry, and if I could take back what I said and the way I acted, I would.” His brown eyes lifted to his partner’s. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Thran. I saw how you’ve been these last two months, and it ripped me apart because I couldn’t reach you, I couldn’t make things better.”

The blonde inhaled deeply through his nose. “I understand you wanting to help me, and being cautious for me,” he said. “But you did _not_ give us the chance to talk before you went off at the deep end, shouting and yelling, calling Talia names, humiliating her, degrading her-“

“It’s done, baby,” she said softly, touching his arm. “He’s apologised.”

“And your apology is accepted,” he said. “But take what I am about to say as gospel; I will _not_ tolerate you speaking to her like that again. We have a long history and a deep friendship Bard, but you crossed the line by a mile yesterday.”

He nodded. “I know. And I feel like shit now I know what happened.”

Talia turned back as the kettle boiled, and made the coffee. She handed one to Thranduil, and picked up her own as she crossed the floor to hand Bard his. He took it with a mumble of gratitude.

Thranduil finally shifted, following her and throwing his weight onto the couch. She sat down beside him, and he immediately wrapped his left arm around her shoulders, pulling her to lean against his side as she crossed one knee over the other.

Bard sat on the armchair opposite. “Thorin tells me you’re getting married,” he said. “Congratulations.”

“Thankyou,” she replied.

He sighed quietly. “Talia…I…fuck.” He stopped, shaking his head as he stared up at the ceiling, before looking back at her. “You hurt Thranduil. You destroyed my best friend, unintentionally I admit, but he was devastated. An absolute wreck. I didn’t think he would be able to pull himself back. I didn’t know what to do.”

Beside her, Thranduil breathed steadily, but she could feel him tightly coiled as though he was waiting to pounce. Settling one hand on his thigh, she spoke.

“If I could have avoided that, Bard, believe me – I would have. The _last_ thing I wanted to do was hurt him or cause him any pain,” she said. “He means everything to me. I love him more than I can even begin to understand, so I’m not even going to try to explain it out loud. I had to protect him from the scumbags trying to kill him, and as each day passed I found it harder and harder to admit to him what was going on. It hurt me too, and I know you won’t believe that, but that’s fine. That’s up to you, and I can’t change that. My heart was torn to pieces when everything blew up in my face, when I knew the pain and distress I’d caused, the lies I’d told. Please don’t judge me when you have no idea what I went through as well.”

Her voice had faded to almost a whisper, and Thranduil felt the tremor that shook her as it passed through her shoulders into his arm.

“I’m not judging you,” Bard said. “Not anymore. I never should have. I just couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw you two together. We all thought you were dead.”

She nodded. “I know. That was Allan who masterminded that. The damage was already done by the time I woke up in the hospital after surgery.”

Thranduil took a drink of his coffee, staying silent until he felt she needed him to step in.

“He told us outside your apartment that we couldn’t get access,” Bard told her. “He had an attitude like he couldn’t care less, and he wasn’t going to tell us anything. Thran grabbed him demanding to know where you were, and he told him you were dead. After that, nobody would tell him anything more, like where you were being kept, where they were going to bury you. That broke him, Talia…it crushed his soul.”

“But my soul is fine,” Thranduil said, deciding that it was a good time to speak up. He could feel Talia almost getting smaller as she cowered away from facing what had happened. “What I have to work on now is building this lady’s soul back to where it was,” he added, glancing at her. He looked back at his partner. “Because she is locked in a world of guilt and grief, and every time I think I’ve made progress towards bringing her out of it, _something_ happens to set her back again.”

A faint hue graced Bard’s cheeks. “Then whatever you have to do to fix the lovely lady, count me in,” he said. His eyes moved to her. “I know you love each other. I know you’re good for him. I just didn’t want to see him hurt like that again…that’s all.”

“Neither do I,” she said.

Bard set his cup on the floor and stood, holding his arms out. “I want a hug.”

She pulled away from Thranduil and rose to her feet, his warm hand sliding down her back as she moved. Taking a step towards Bard, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into a crushing embrace.

“Ow…careful,” she hissed painfully. “My ribs are still really sore.”

“Christ…sorry,” he said, loosening his hold.

Behind her, Thranduil lifted an eyebrow as he took another drink.

His friend pulled back and stared down at her. “I think you’ll make a beautiful bride, and you’ll make him really happy,” he said with a smile.

“I hope so,” she said with a shaky laugh, wiping a stray tear away.

“Ok, take your hands off my woman,” Thranduil said dryly, but both could hear the humour in his voice. She turned back to him and he held his hand out for her, settling her back next to him.

“I don’t want a war between us,” Bard said, sitting back down again. “I want things to be the way they were, with Talia included.”

“I’m pleased to hear this,” Thranduil responded. His fingers twisted through hers as she leaned against him. “She means the world to me.”

His friend nodded. “I’m happy for you both; I genuinely am.” He crossed one ankle over the opposing knee, relaxing in the chair. “What are your plans?” he asked as he sipped his coffee.

“I want to take Talia away for a while,” he answered. “We’ve both been through far too much, and I think a break away geographically will do us the world of good. Just someplace to relax, be with each other – heal, as it were.”

His friend nodded in understanding. “I think a change of scenery would be the right thing,” he said. “No plans to come back to work yet?”

Thranduil shook his head. “Thorin told me to take another couple of weeks, sort things out,” he replied. “Don’t worry – I’ll soon be on your back again.”

The two grinned, and the conversation steered towards departmental cop stuff, so Talia left her lover’s side and went through to prepare something to eat for them all. She sang away to herself as she chopped onions and garlic, and prepared an omelette adding a pile of grated cheese.

Bard’s eyes moved over his partner’s shoulder to her back as she moved around. “I honestly do hope this works for you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I mean it. You were good together.”

“It’ll work,” Thranduil said confidently. “I’ve lost her once; it’s not going to happen again.”

“Thorin said he’s offered her a job in the precinct.”

“Yes. To which I said no. To which she argued her point and said we would discuss it,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Somehow I get the feeling that I’m not really going to have a say in it at the end of the day.”

“It might be something worth thinking about,” his friend advised. “If you guys can handle living together and working together. A lot of people can’t do it. But…and it’s an added bonus on both sides…she’d be able to keep an eye out for you, and you’d know she was safe.”

Ice blue eyes studied light brown ones as he contemplated the statement. “You have a point,” he conceded. “I’m not promising anything,” he added on a sigh. “But I _will_ give it some thought.”

Talia’s voice drifted over to them, sweet melodic tones and lyrics that spoke of a love so deep, the planet’s rotation had ceased. Thranduil smiled to himself.

*****

Bard stayed for lunch.

After he’d departed to take care of whatever he took care of on his day off, presumably trying to reign his three children together for some family time, Talia made herself busy in the apartment.

Thranduil spent an hour or so catching up with his colleagues via phone calls and through his laptop. Although he didn’t intend on returning to the precinct in the immediate future, he still wanted to be kept abreast of what was going on in his absence.

Finally, he closed the laptop and tossed his cell phone carelessly onto the couch beside him, stretching his arms up over his head to relieve cramped muscles. Glancing around, he frowned. Strange noises were coming from the bedroom, and he rose to his feet and padded through to satisfy his curiosity.

He stood in the doorway, his arms folded, shoulder leaning against the frame, a smile hovering around his mouth.

Talia was balanced up on the window ledge, humming a tune as she polished the large windows. Her hair was tied in a loose topknot with strands hanging over her eyes. She impatiently blew them out of her line of vision, rubbing frantically on the glass. The cloth made a _squeak squeak_ noise as she worked.

“What are you doing, you crazy woman?” he asked, unfolding his arms and stepping into the room.

She glanced across at him. “Oh…hi. I thought you were still busy,” she said. “I’m cleaning, and keeping out of your way.”

Strong arms lifted her down from the ledge and back onto the floor, remaining around her as she gazed up at him. “You are never in my way,” he told her. “I was simply catching up with the guys from work, that’s all. You didn’t have to leave the room, or do this mad stuff.”

Her nose wrinkled. “It needed doing,” she said.

He dipped his head a little, a faint pink blush dusting his cheeks. “I have let the place go lately,” he admitted. “I just couldn’t-“

“Hey, stop it,” she said, touching a gentle hand to his face. “I didn’t mean it like that, babe…honestly. I meant that every now and again, a home needs a good gutting out. It’s not a slur on the way you keep a house, honey, I promise.” Anxious eyes searched his.

“I want you to be happy here,” he said softly.

She smiled. “As long as I’m with you, I’m happy,” she assured him. “And whether that’s here, down the street, in the next state…it doesn’t matter. Geography isn’t important.”

“No, but biology is,” he said with a laugh, swooping down and merging his mouth over hers. She squealed with laughter and wrapped her arms around his neck, her body aligning to his as she dropped the cloth on the floor behind him.

“This isn’t getting the housework finished,” she gasped as he kissed down her neck.

“No, but this is more fun,” he whispered. A long sweep of his tongue down her flesh made her shudder, and his arms tightened around her. “I think you must be sweaty and dirty after cleaning…how about a shower?”

She murmered her approval as he began backing towards the bathroom with her, still kissing and licking her neck as they moved. She started to laugh as he walloped his elbow off the doorframe with a muttered curse, and laughed harder as his foot caught on the rug in the hallway.

“Goddammit,” he grunted. Loosening his hold, he bent down and swept her up into his arms, making her roar with merriment.

“Put me down, you lunatic!” she yelled.

“Never,” he growled, striding into the luxuriously large bathroom. “You’re mine.”

Her arms tightened around his neck as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Yes, and I always will be,” she told him.

The laughter faded as they gazed at each other, both reading the emotions that fluttered across the others’ eyes. He slowly loosened his hold and allowed her to slide to her feet, his eyes never leaving hers. Very slowly, he peeled her clothing from her, garment by garment, his warm hands caressing flesh as he exposed it. She reached up and worked her way down the buttons of his shirt, resisting the temptation to break their intense gaze to look down at his chest. Warm flesh met her searching hands as they sought new territory. His nostrils flared as she touched his skin, trailing her hands up and across his shoulders and taking the cloth of his shirt with them. Down his arms and along his waist, to the button on his denims.

The breath hissed between his teeth as he exhaled, Talia pushing his jeans down over the bulge between his legs. Stepping out of them, he lifted her bodily and wrapped her thighs around his waist. The tiles on the shower floor were cold on his bare feet, but he never took his eyes from hers as he reached to one side and turned the shower on, the instantly warm gush flowing around them. She gasped as the cool wall touched her back, tightening her arms around his neck. His weight pressed her against the wall, his mouth descending to capture hers.

Everything else was lost in the clouds of steam that swirled around them.


	16. Chapter 16

** CHAPTER SIXTEEN **

****

“Did you ever carry out an assignment and feel bad about it afterwards?” Thranduil asked. “Like regret having done it?”

Talia pursed her mouth as she considered his question, kicking up water as they strolled hand in hand through the waves cresting the sand. “No. I couldn’t let myself be attached to the target,” she answered after some thought. “I couldn’t make that mental connection; I couldn’t think _this guy has a wife or kids somewhere_ or _this guy has a past and a story to tell._ I couldn’t have done my job if I did.”

He swung their joined hands between them as they walked, the splashes of water hitting his lower legs. He was wearing cut-off light blue jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, and she’d almost jumped on him before they’d even got to the door of their hotel room. “I guess that makes sense,” he acknowledged. “To stay detached and focused.”

She nodded. “Exactly. I was taking out a killer who was going to take the life of someone innocent, that’s the way we were trained to think,” she said. “If we started putting thoughts and emotions into things, it would’ve just been a huge-assed mess. Lives would have been lost for no reason.”

“Do you miss it?” Ice blue eyes glanced down at her.

“No,” she replied with honesty. “The assignment with you turned me completely away from that life. If I hadn’t become involved with you and fallen in love with you, it might’ve been different, and I’d still be doing the job in ten years from now.”

He inhaled through his nose. “So if they asked you to go back..?”

She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t. I almost lost everything, Thranduil. I know you were hurt badly, I know that the world seemed to implode for you, and I’ll always feel guilty about that. But I was hurt as well, I can’t describe how my heart broke during that time.”

“Because of the way I treated you when I found out,” he said quietly.

“I deserved it,” she said simply. “I couldn’t have expected open arms and an _everything’s just fine_ response from you. That’s insane. It was a huge secret to keep, and it was draining me no end. I cried a lot when you were at work.”

He tugged her to a halt, turning her to face him, his eyes searching hers. “That makes me sad,” he whispered.

“It’s not your fault,” she replied. “It’s mine. I brought everything on myself. As Allan told me – _mea culpa._ I had nobody else to blame.”

He lifted his free hand and cupped her cheek, his thumb gently caressing her soft skin. “If you could go back and change it, would you?”

“No,” she said instantly. “Because I kept you alive. And even if things had never healed for us, even if we’d never seen each other again, I could live with the knowledge that at least you were still alive and would have the chance to find happiness again, with someone else.”

Emotional pain made him narrow his eyes. “No,” he whispered harshly. “No, Talia. There could never be anyone else after you. You did things to my mind, my heart, things I’ve never felt before, never dreamed existed. I’m not talking about sex, I mean – God…I can’t find the words.” He broke off, turning his head and staring out to sea for a few moments. “You’re different,” he decided after a while. “I’ve never met anyone like you. You view the world differently from everyone else. You don’t conform to expectations, you’re you and you do what you please. You’re addictive.”

Strands of his hair moved in the warm breeze, catching her attention, and she lifted her free hand to smooth the silken tresses. “I don’t like being a sheep,” she said. “I prefer to be the shepherd.”

“Perhaps that’s what attracted me to you,” he smiled. “You are not afraid to voice your opinion, to show your thoughts on different things. I remember the fire that burned in your eyes the night we first went out to dinner.”

She frowned slightly in confusion.

“You demanded to know why we were out on a date together if I was married,” he told her, his smile growing to a grin as the penny dropped. “Yes…I remember the venom in the look that you gave me.”

“I thought you were a player,” she admitted, her cheeks a little pink.

They started walking through the waves again.

“But I’m not.”

“No, and I know that now,” she said. “But let’s face it…you could snap your fingers and have literally legions of women falling into your bed.”

He snorted with laughter. “So could you.”

She stopped. “What the fuck would I want a legion of women in my bed for?” she demanded incredulously, which made him laugh harder. “In _your_ fantasies, maybe. But fuck no – not in mine. Forget that!”

“It is not in my fantasies,” he laughed. “And I did not mean women. I meant men, you lunatic.”

She drew him a wry look, kicking water higher up so it drenched the bottom of his cut-offs.

“Oh…like that, is it?” he demanded.

She screamed as he lifted her and strode deeper into the surf, holding her aloft. “Oh-my-God-don’t-you-dare!” she screamed, contorting with laughter.

“I don’t see why I should be the only one who gets wet,” he replied, lifted her higher and dropping her.

She hit the water with a mighty splash, sinking beneath the waves and surfacing spitting water and cursing like a trucker. He twisted round and started to run through the depths, his laughter trailing behind him. She took off after him, cursing as it was more difficult than she’d thought to run in thigh-high water.

“You big shit!” she yelled, furiously plodding through it. She hurtled clumsily towards him, knowing he’d deliberately slowed down for her to catch him, and launched herself onto his back. The two of them toppled over, crashing into the water with a huge splash. They rolled and twisted, roaring with laughter.

After cavorting and half drowning each other, Thranduil grabbed her and lifted her up, carrying her out of the water and onto the rich, warm sand. She settled onto her feet and reached up, gripping his hair and yanking him down so she could kiss him. Salt from the ocean tickled her senses as he returned her kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth as his arms went around her. She pressed her body closer to his, her sex drive flaring to life in arousal as the kiss quickly gained heat and momentum.

“I want you,” he whispered against her lips, his hands roaming the length of her spine. “I want you here and now…”

She giggled, chasing kisses along his jaw. “We can’t, not here,” she whispered back. “Let’s go back to the hotel and get naked together…”

He grunted, moving backwards along the sand and tugging her with him. They stumbled along the uneven surface, kissing and laughing as they clung to each other.

Talia stiffened in his arms as something whizzed past her at speed, tearing the sleeve of her t-shirt. Her eyes widened as she focused on the dilapidated wooden beach hut behind him. “Run!” she screamed, pushing him.

He whipped round in shock to see what she was staring at.

A bullet hole appeared in the wood next to a hole there previously as he looked at it.

Shocked eyes went back to hers, and she shoved him hard at the same time as another shot whizzed past. They broke into a sprint, diving behind the structure and down the grassy dunes at the back of it.

Thranduil grabbed her hand and veered to his right, cutting in between parked vehicles as they ran onto the parking lot that overlooked the beach. A bullet struck the window of a truck, shattering the glass with a resounding boom. Talia screamed and dragged him down onto the asphalt, landing on his back and curling herself around his large frame as best she could.

“Talia! What the hell are you doing?” he roared, flipping her off him and leaping to a crouch in front of her. “Get up! We have to get back to the hotel!”

She took the hand he thrust towards her, letting him drag her up and they crouched low as they hurried forwards. Her chest was beginning to hurt as she gasped for breath, caught completely unawares by the shooting. A neon sign a few feet behind them exploded as another shot flew past them.

“Shit!” Thranduil shouted, yanking her harder. They flew down an alleyway between two tourist stores and emerged onto a street filled with holiday makers. He stopped briefly, his head turning in all directions as he assessed their options. “This way,” he said, pulling her behind him as he cut in through the crowds of people.

Twenty minutes later, they burst into the hotel they’d been staying in, both breathing hard and sweating. He guided her into the elevator, which took them to their floor. Once there, he entered their room first, checking every crevice and corner before signalling for her to enter.

He reached over her shoulder and slammed the door behind her. “Talia, what the _fuck_ did you do?” he demanded, fury blazing in his eyes. He towered over her, his jaw clenched, fists on his hips.

“I…nothing!” she stammered. “I don’t know where the shooter was, I don’t know where they came from!”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he said angrily. “I’m talking about you throwing yourself into the path of an oncoming bullet! What the hell’s wrong with you?!”

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” he ranted, turning away and dragging both hands through his hair. “What..it’s…I…fuck…what possessed you to even _attempt_ that?” He whirled back round to face her, his chest heaving as he fought to breathe through his emotions.

Her face changed, and she folded her arms defensively, narrowing her eyes. “I was doing what my training required me to do,” she said coldly. “Which was making sure that whatever the hell was going on, you got out of it alive.”

He stared at her with his mouth open in shocked astonishment. “At the expense of your own life?!” he demanded incredulously, regaining the power of speech.

She held her ground, despite the illusion of him seeming to grow even more before her in his frustration and anger. “It’s what I do,” she shot back.

“No! No, Talia, it _isn’t_ what you do!” he shouted, gripping her upper arms in a bruising grip. “Holy shit, it’s _not_ what you do! You do _not_ put your life on the line for _anyone!_ Not me, not…” He struggled for a name. “Not Elvis, not anybody!”

“Elvis is already dead,” she said dryly.

“Stop it, Talia!” he roared, shaking her. “You don’t do it, do you understand?”

Fury tore through her as she wrenched herself free from his hold. “No! _You_ don’t understand!” she yelled. “You’re too important! I was drafted in months ago to keep you alive for fuck sake, and by God I’m going to keep doing it, one way or the other. And if you don’t like that, then tough shit! You can’t do anything about it!”

A shocked silence descended as they glared at each other, both furious in their own right, both blindsided by their own opinions.

He slowly shook his head, anguish replacing the fury in his eyes. “You cannot do this,” he whispered. “You can’t.”

One eyebrow lifted in challenge.

“Don’t do this to me, Talia… _please_ don’t do this to me,” he said, still in a whisper. “I can’t lose you again. I just can’t.”

The anger in her eyes slowly ebbed away, and he could see the emotions coming back to the blue depths.

“Please, baby,” he pleaded, shaking his head. “Please don’t do this.”

She took a deep breath, unfolding her arms. “We need to get changed and get out of here,” she said quietly, looking away as she stepped past him.

He tipped his head back and gazed at the ceiling as she started to tear off her soaked clothing. Neither of them spoke as they both washed and changed into dry clothes, throwing the rest into their holdalls.

Her eyes met his as he held his hand out to her. “Come on,” he said softly. There was no anger, no malice in his tone. She stepped towards him, taking his hand. They left the hotel room, checked out, and tossed their bags into his car.

“It’s a two hour drive back,” he said, slamming the trunk closed.

“D’you want me to drive for the first hour?” she asked.

Ice blue eyes studied her, absorbing every detail. She’d changed into figure-hugging denims and a strappy top that emphasised her generous bust. The breeze flirted with the ends of her hair, pulled back into a ponytail that hung over one shoulder.

He stepped closer to her, touching her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “I love you,” he whispered.

Her eyes closed as his full, warm mouth gently touched hers in a tender kiss. Pulling back, she stared up into his eyes, searching. What she was searching for she didn’t know, but she looked anyway.

He handed her the keys. “Let me know when you want to switch, or if you get tired,” he said, his voice low. His fingers closed around her hand as she took the keys, and he took a deep breath.

“I will,” she answered. “And by the way…”

He stopped, mid-turn away from her.

“I love you too.” She smiled, and went round to the driver’s side, getting in and slamming the door as she did up her seat belt.

The vehicle rocked as he settled into the passenger seat, and she guided it up the ramps and out of the underground parking lot located beneath the hotel.

*****

Thranduil dozed during the drive, so Talia didn’t wake him, and continued driving. Two hours wasn’t a long time to be behind the wheel, and the SUV was exceptionally comfortable to drive. She relaxed as they travelled, her thumb tapping the steering wheel as she changed between tracks on the cd player.

By the time he slowly awoke, they were roughly half an hour from home, and he scowled at the scenery whipping past them, complaining at the speed she was driving at.

She laughed. “I’m not going _that_ fast,” she told him, sending him a mischievous glance. “I did tell you I drive like a demon on acid.”

He grumbled to himself, yawning. “I think we should drop by the precinct,” he said. “I want to update Thorin and Bard, and find out if anything’s happened in our absence.”

“Not a problem,” she replied, switching lanes and hurtling past the lines of steadily-travelling cars and trucks.

“Goddamit, slow down,” he said.

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” she laughed.

“What time is it?” he demanded.

“Heading for twenty past two,” she told him as she glanced at the dash.

He folded his arms and _hmmph’_ d. “If you’d stuck to the speed limit, we shouldn’t be anywhere _near_ home,” he pointed out.

“And you’re complaining why?” she asked rhetorically. “I can’t be arsed stuck behind a coachload of looky-loos with cameras and cell phones taking pictures of everything they see. It drives me mad.”

“That’s because you have no patience,” he replied. “Along with no respect for the state laws on how fast you’re allowed to drive.”

She sneaked a glance at him, seeing the tell-tale curve at the corner of his mouth. “D’you mind if we pull over? I need to smoke.”

He frowned. “Are you stressed?”

“A little,” she admitted. “But my mind’s working overtime right now, and I need a ciggy to get my thoughts together.”

“So have one,” he told her, reaching over and taking a pack out of the glove compartment.

She lifted an eyebrow at him as she noticed a couple were missing, and he shrugged, taking two out and tossing the pack back.

“I didn’t know you were a regular smoker,” she said after a few seconds.

“I’m not,” he answered as he handed her a lit one. “Like you, I only do it when I’m stressing over something. I sort of fell back into it a little after…” He trailed off.

“I know,” she said softly. “For what it’s worth, I morphed into a chimney for those couple of months. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. And we _can_ bring it up in conversation, you know. It’s not a taboo subject.” She pressed a button on the console and lowered her window a little.

“Talia, I’m sorry I shouted and yelled at you back at the hotel,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that. You don’t deserve that.”

She inhaled deeply on her cigarette, flicking ash out of the window. “You were worried,” she reasoned. “I get that.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t excuse how I reacted,” he said. “I just…” He stopped, heaving a deep sigh. “I just can’t lose you again, little kitty. I can’t go through that again.”

“You won’t,” she promised. “That’s a concrete oath. You won’t lose me. You may get sick and tired of me, but you won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere.”

He reached across and rested his hand on her knee, squeezing lightly as he turned to look out of the window.


	17. Chapter 17

** CHAPTER SEVENTEEN **

****

Thranduil and Talia held hands as they both pushed open the double doors of the squad room, walking shoulder to shoulder.

Utter chaos greeted them.

Kili was balanced up on Fili’s shoulders, fighting with Bofur who was up on Dwalin’s shoulders. Both ‘supports’ hollered and yelled encouragement, and the cops gathered around roared and shouted as they egged them on. The two who were locked in furious battle walloped their batons off their opponent’s, making an awful racket. Nori and Balin were huddled together next to a radio, grumbling about the ongoing baseball game.

Thorin emerged from his office, looking harassed.

“ENOUGH!” he roared.

Everything went silent. Kili hopped down from his brother’s shoulders, and Bofur crashed to a heap on the floor as he lost his balance mid-swing at him. The radio was turned off, and all eyes went to Thorin.

“I suggest those of you who aren’t behind on your paperwork, get your hairy arses out and do what you’re paid to do,” he stated. “Catch criminals!”

Bofur, Bomber, and Fili shot to their desks and made themselves look busy. Nori and Dwalin took off, and Kili vanished after Oin in the direction of the canteen.

Thorin’s eyes met Thranduil’s, and he shook his head. “Welcome back to hell,” he said dryly.

Thranduil grinned, leading Talia through the maze of desks that were overflowing with documents and arrest warrants. “It would appear that nothing has changed,” he observed, coming to a halt and shaking his hand.

“Does it ever,” he responded, in a tone that clearly said he was losing the will to live. “How are you, Talia?”

“I’m ok,” she replied with a smile.

“Is there someplace we can talk?” her lover questioned.

“Sure,” Thorin said. “Come into the office. Leave these goddamned imbeciles to catch up on what they were supposed to be doing to begin with, instead of wrecking the damned squad room.”

Talia chuckled to herself as she stepped before Thranduil, who ushered her in front of him towards the office. She glanced around as she stepped inside, memories of the last time she’d been there resurfacing.

Memories of screaming at Thranduil, of tears and guilt. Of her heart being broken, of him turning away from her because of her lies. Of Allan calling her a whore and grabbing her by the throat. Of Thranduil bursting in and threatening him if he ever laid a hand on her again.

He closed the door and turned to face Thorin, catching her eye as he did so. “Let it go, little kitty,” he said softly. Like her, he was remembering the pain and the hurt from the confrontation.

She swallowed and nodded.

“Have a seat,” Thorin said, his alert eyes catching the moment between the couple, and knowing what was going on between the lines. He moved to a coffee machine in the corner and poured three generously sized mugs, handing two over to them.

“Thankyou,” she said, settling down on the comfortable leather couch to the side of the desk.

Thranduil sat down beside her, immediately resting his hand on her thigh as she crossed one leg over the other.

Another move that didn’t go unnoticed by Thorin.

“I’m guessing that seeing as Azog returned to the state four days ago, this isn’t a social visit,” he said, sitting in the chair behind his desk and swivelling it to face them. “Thranduil, why the fuck didn’t you take your phone when you guys went away?”

“I needed to cut off from the world for a while,” he replied. “When did Azog come back? Four days ago?”

“That ticks quite a few boxes,” Talia said, glancing at him as Thorin nodded.

“We were shot at,” Thranduil said.

The other man’s eyes widened before he closed them briefly, swearing under his breath. “When? Where?”

“This morning, at the beach,” he answered. “Five shots.”

“In broad daylight?” Thorin asked.

Talia nodded. “We didn’t hang around,” she said. “We flew back to the hotel, packed up and headed home.”

“You didn’t notify the local cops?”

Thranduil shook his head. “No. I want our guys on this.”

His colleague exhaled through his nose as he studied him, clasping his hands over his stomach. “We don’t have jurisdiction,” he said. “I’ll have to make a few calls. Pull in a few favours. It might take a couple of days.” He unclasped his hand again, picking up a pen and doodling on a sheet of paper on the desk. “My contact said Azog flew in on Saturday in a private jet.”

Thranduil and Talia exchanged looks.

“He’s behind this,” she said softly. “He knows I’m still alive, and that you know. The contract’s back on.”

Both jumped as Thorin smashed his fist onto the desk. “Is it hell,” he snarled. “I’m not having either of you out roaming the streets if that’s the case. I’ll put you both into protective custody.”

Thranduil snorted in disgust. “You’ll have to jail me first,” he snapped.

“Then you have one other option, or I might do just that,” he retorted. “I put together a task force to deal with this piece of shit and bring him down, with Talia as part of the team, or I _will_ throw both of your arses in lockup for your own bloody safety.”

The blonde opened his mouth to say something, and snapped it shut in anger.

“I’m in,” Talia spoke up. “What?” she responded to her lover’s head whipping round so he could glare at her. “I get to carry a weapon again. I get to protect you again, legitimately, and with no risk of being hauled up for murder when I kill the bastard and whoever he hires.” She took a sip of her coffee.

Thorin’s eyes darted between the two, and he smiled subtly in amusement. The battle between the two strong warriors before him reminded him of his marriage to his late wife. Like Talia, she’d been determined and usually held her ground until she won whatever they’d crossed words about. “It’s a safer choice, Thran,” he said quietly.

Ice blue eyes shot in his direction. “We have not even discussed this,” he spat. “I told you, Talia and myself would talk about it, in due course. The opportunity hasn’t presented itself yet.”

“It just has,” she told him, uncrossing and re-crossing her legs. “You can’t deny that.”

“It hasn’t presented itself,” he insisted. “It’s been forced on us, there’s a difference.”

“Six and half a dozen,” she said dismissively, and turned her attention back to Thorin. “I want in.”

“Thran?” he said, his gaze locked on his colleague.

Silence.

“Fine,” he grunted finally.

“Good. Let me give Bard a call. It’s his day off, but he won’t mind coming in for an hour or so to be brought up to speed,” he said, and lifted his phone.

Thranduil looked at Talia, who smiled innocently up at him. He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he drank his coffee.

Thorin smiled to himself again.

*****

Bard nodded as he folded his arms and pursed his mouth. Staring down at a spot on the carpet, the casual passer-by would be mistaken in thinking that he wasn’t paying attention.

He was.

“I think we need to haul ass over to that beach and get those bullets,” he said, lifting his head to look at Thorin.

He shook his head. “The local guys are on it,” he told him. He swivelled from side to side in his seat as he talked. “I’m waiting on a call from them and a ballistics report.”

“You should’ve taken your damned phone, Thran,” Bard muttered at his partner. “We tried to call you about eight or nine times to let you know that scumbag was back.”

Thranduil shrugged nonchalantly. “I needed time away from responsibility, time away from being a cop,” he replied.

“Can’t say I blame you for that,” Thorin observed. “I just wish I could do likewise from time to time. I feel like I’m married to this damned job, and all of you reprobates.”

Talia snorted into her coffee cup, earning herself a wry look from Thranduil.

“Where is he now?” he asked, deciding to ignore her.

Thorin shrugged. “Where is anybody? He could be swinging off the trees in National park for all I know. Nobody has seen hide not hair of him since he landed at the airstrip.”

Bard frowned. “The one outside Hill Forge?” he asked. His question was met with a nod. “I have a friend who works security there. I’ll look into it.” He shifted off the edge of the desk, nodding to Thranduil and Talia as he left the room.

Thorin’s gaze shifted to the couple, who hadn’t left their positions sitting next to each other on the couch. “I’m not sure going back to your apartment would be the wisest move,” he commented.

Talia closed her eyes and looked away, knowing he was right.

“Babe?”

She turned back to Thranduil. “It’s nothing,” she assured him. “Just that I was beginning to settle in some place I could finally call home.”

He picked up the sadness in her voice, even though she tried hard to disguise it. Reaching over, he gripped her hand tightly in his. “It’s still your home,” he said. “But he’s right. We should probably stay somewhere else for the time being. I don’t want to make this bastard’s life any easier than it already is.”

“There’s the safe-house over on the other side of the city,” Thorin suggested. “You’d probably be as good there as anywhere else. At least it’s secure.”

“The one over past Markfield?” he asked, and received a nod in response.

“I can put a protective detail on it as well, if need be,” Thorin said.

“We won’t need it,” Talia replied. “Babe…I’m starving,” she said, turning to Thranduil. “Can we go somewhere and get something to eat?”

“Of course we can, baby,” he replied.

“Stay put,” his colleague commanded, rising to his feet and crossing the floor to the door. Throwing it opening and bellowing across the squad room, he summoned Bofur and rattled off an order, to which the smaller man promptly vanished. “No Bombur, I didn’t send you because believe it or not we actually want to _eat_ some food, not crawl through the leftover scraps you’d bring back!” The door slammed.

Talia suppressed her laughter, drawing a knowing glance from Thranduil.

“Got it,” Bard announced, bursting into the office again. “Thorin, check your email; I’ve forwarded it on to you.”

“Forwarded what?” he asked, as he sat back down and clicked on his computer.

“I called my friend at the airfield. He emailed over the details of Azog’s flight,” he told him, leaning over the desk to look at the screen. “There it is. Check that out.”

Thorin frowned as he scanned the attachment. “So he landed at 04.35 hours, then had his limo pick him up and head to his casino,” he murmered. “Why would anybody go to a casino at that time of morning? Why not just go straight home?”

“Meeting a contact?” Talia suggested. “Seeing a deal through?”

“Nothing good comes from meeting anyone at that time of the morning,” Thranduil commented as he crossed one leg over the other.

Her gaze was drawn to the movement, lingering on the strong thigh that was presented to her. “I think we should tail him,” she decided, turning away from the alluring view.

Thranduil smirked.

“Too dangerous,” Thorin said. “He knows most of us.”

“He doesn’t know me,” she pointed out. “He’s heard of me, but has never eyeballed me. He just put the hit out and didn’t even know who I was.”

“Absolutely _no fucking way,_ ” Thranduil spat. “Forget it. You are _not_ even going to contemplate what I know is running through your head right now. Thorin – talk to her, for Chrissakes.”

“He’s right,” he agreed softly. “One slip and your life’s over. It’s far too big a risk to take, Talia.”

She scowled, slouching back against the couch. “I could take him,” she muttered.

“From what I’ve heard of your sharpshooting skills, I have no doubt that you could,” he told her. “But I’m not putting a single member of my team at risk. Besides, if it went wrong, I’d have to answer to that big human tree-trunk snarling next to you.”

Thranduil huffed, and Bard chuckled.

“What we need is to tap into his communications,” he said. “Emails, text messages, phone calls. Balin’s into that technology thing; that’s his field of expertise.”

Thorin stared at him as he continued to swivel in the seat. “You have a point there,” he agreed. “Leave that with me. I’ll have a chat with him later and see what I can come up with.”

Four heads turned expectantly as the office door opened, and Bofur appeared laden down with takeaway food packages. Thranduil immediately got to his feet and relieved him of them, setting them on Thorin’s desk. Both he and Bard watched in quiet amusement as he took a cheeseburger, fries, and a coke, handing them to Talia.

“Domesticated, much,” Thorin murmered, coughing in an attempt to disguise his words as the blonde glared at him.

Bard tipped his head back and roared with laughter. “Caught!”

“How about manners?” Thranduil said, seating himself back beside her. “I was raised to take care of a lady first, not dive in like a rabid beast and devour everything.”

Talia smiled. She knew he was a gentleman. Everything he did shouted the fact loudly. He opened doors for her. He ushered her before him, usually with his hand on her lower back. He held hands with her all the time. He gave her her mug of coffee before he took his own. He made sure she climaxed before he took his own pleasure.

“I was raised in a house where if you didn’t grab food first, you didn’t get any,” Thorin muttered. “There was always aunts, cousins, cousins’ friends, anybody who could fit through the damned doorway. If you weren’t fast, you were last, and there would be nothing left.”

“That sounds like a zoo,” she said with a laugh.

“Have you any family, Talia?” Bard asked, taking a huge bite from a slice of pizza.

She shook her head. “No. Well I have parents, but we haven’t spoken in years and years. No brothers or sisters, just me.”

“That’s a shame,” Thorin remarked.

“Not really,” she said. “Bad blood with the parents. And you can’t miss what you’ve never had as far as brothers and sisters go.”

“I always said I wanted more than one child,” Bard commented. “When Bain was born, I knew right away that I didn’t want him to be an only child. Although I’m sure there are plenty of times when he wishes he was.”

A wave of laughter rippled among them.

“I think we’ll head over to the safe house once we’ve finished this,” Thranduil said. “It’s been a long day, even though it’s not anywhere near time for sleep.”

Thorin nodded. “Give Bard a list of what you want picked up from your place,” he said. “He can take Bombur and Dwalin, and take anything you need. I don’t want you guys going back there for a while.”

Talia handed the blonde a fry, popping it in his mouth as he opened it to take it. Her gaze rested on his full lips for a few seconds, before she blinked and frowned.

“We’ll probably only need clothing,” he said, trying not to laugh at her expression. “And my cell phone. Can you think of anything else?” His gaze settled on her.

She scowled, knowing full well that he’d read her lascivious thoughts. “No,” she answered, shaking her head. “There was a book I’d started reading…it’s lying on the bedside unit with the page folded. Don’t worry if you don’t think about it when you’re there,” she added to Bard.

“I’ll bring it along,” he assured her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t want you to get bored in bed.”

Thranduil flipped him his middle finger and Thorin choked on his sandwich.


	18. Chapter 18

** CHAPTER EIGHTEEN **

****

“Fuck sake!” Talia yelled, dumping a file of folders down onto the desk. “I leave it for _five_ bloody minutes, and one of you shit-heads has buggered off with it!”

Laughter rippled around the busy squad room.

“A word of advice, my darling,” Thranduil drawled, without lifting his head from his perusal of documents spread out before him. “Don’t ever leave coffee lying unattended. If you go to the restroom, take it with you. If you go down to booking, take it with you. If you’re going to shoot someone, grab the coffee first.”

“I know who I _will_ bloody shoot,” she grunted, throwing herself down into the chair which creaked ominously under her weight. “I’ll bet it’s Kili who’s fucked off with it.”

“It usually is, lass,” Balin informed her from behind his computer screen. “He’s notorious for it.”

“Watch this space for a laxative overdose,” she threatened. “I’ll teach him to keep his thieving paws off what’s not his.” Her desk drawer slammed shut and a stapler banged down onto the surface.

Ice blue eyes finally lifted, regarding her with a degree of amusement. “How good are you with foreign languages?” he asked.

“Depends on the language,” she replied. “Why? What language are you referring to?”

“German,” he said. “At least, I think it’s German. Here. Have a look.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder as he slid a document towards her, revealing a dark red bite on the side of her neck.

Bard whistled. “I assume you didn’t catch up on your book last night then?” he quipped.

“You’re just jealous, Bowman,” Thranduil replied without turning round.

“Ha! I think not. You’re the _last_ person I’d want biting me,” his partner snorted. “And I really think you should see a doc, and soon. That bite looks like you’ve turned part-vampire lately.”

“He’s not the only one who was biting,” Talia muttered under her breath with a smirk.

“What?!”

“Nothing!” she shot back. “Yeah…this is German,” she said to Thranduil. “Where did you get it?”

“It was _obtained_ from Azog’s email account,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Can you translate it?”

She grinned. “I like the term _obtained,_ ” she said. “Yes…this is basic everyday language.” She frowned as she scanned the text. “He’s arranging a delivery of some sort.”

Thranduil rested his weight on the desk, folding his arms. “Any idea what of?” he asked.

She pursed her mouth. “Not really,” she murmered. “See this here? _Die Lieferung_ is a delivery, and _Dienstag_ is Tuesday.” She pointed to the words. “He mentions _Ein Lagerhaus_ …that’s a warehouse.” Her eyes lifted to his.

“He has a warehouse on the outskirts of the city,” Bard piped up. “I’ll look into the details, see if I can find out what he stores there.”

“It’s not hairbrushes, that’s for sure,” she muttered. “There’s not much else there, I’m afraid. Just a delivery, Tuesday, and a warehouse.”

“You did great,” Thranduil assured her, sliding off the desk again.

“Where did you learn to speak German?” Bard asked curiously.

“Self taught,” she told him. “Two of the agents in the S&S unit were German, and they yakked in their own language all the time. I’m nosey – I wanted to know what they were talking about.”

Thranduil grinned as he took the document back. “And did you learn anything useful?”

“Nope. All they talked about was Hungarian porn,” she replied, making Bard howl. “But they didn’t know that I knew what they were saying.”

“That’s sneaky,” he said, pointing at her.

She nodded. “Yep. Although I prefer _resourceful._ ”

Thranduil’s head jerked up in alarm as she suddenly lurched sideways off her seat, tackling Kili as he walked past and taking him down onto the floor.

“Find your own bloody coffee!” she warned him, snatching the takeaway cup from him.

The smaller man spluttered as he hauled himself to his feet. “Can you not control your woman?” he demanded, turning to Thranduil.

“Why would I wish to?” he responded. “She is more than capable of controlling herself. Be careful whose coffee you lift next time.”

She grinned sarcastically as he marched past her, glaring at her, and waved the cup at him mockingly. “I want to know what shit he keeps in that warehouse,” she said, turning back to her lover and reclaiming her seat. Her fingers tapped on the keypad of the laptop in front of her, bringing up details of properties owned by the crime lord. A few seconds later, she had an aerial view of the warehouse on the screen. “This place is massive. It could be an underground rave club or something.”

“Absolutely…I can just see Azog jiving around at a rave,” Bard observed.

“And that’s why _you_ don’t go to raves,” she retorted. “You don’t jive at a rave, for fuck sake. Jiving went out about eight hundred years ago, you caveman.”

“What do you do then, if you don’t jive?” he demanded.

She shrugged, printing off the birds’ eye map. “Jump around,” she answered.

“What?!” he squeaked incredulously, making Balin duck down behind his screen with a snort of laughter. “What d’you mean…jump around?!”

Thranduil shook his head, deciding to let the two of them hash it out.

“What it says!” she said as thought it was as clear as day. “You. Jump. Around. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“What the hell happened to dancing?”

“That’s considered dancing, of some sort,” she informed him. “Look babe…there’s two roads into this dive.” She pointed at the print-out, handing it to Thranduil.

“I weep for the future of humanity,” Bard muttered as he tapped furiously at his computer.

“Don’t worry about it – humanity weeps for you,” she replied. “We need to keep an eye on both ways in and out, not just the main one over there.”

He nodded, his long hair sliding down over his shoulder and brushing the back of her hand. Her skin tingled in pleasure. “We need a couple of scouts staking these areas out,” he said, indicating the locations. “I’ll get Thorin onto it.”

“Bloody jumping around,” Bard was still muttering. “That’s hardly creative dance.”

“To ravers, aye it is,” she told him over her shoulder. “You stick to line-dancing, and leave the raves to the hard-core. I think if we go in when it’s dark, we can position ourselves-“

“No chance!” Thranduil cut her off. “ _We…_ and when I say _we,_ I mean _you…_ are not going anywhere near this place. It’s out of the question. That’s what we have UCs for.”

“And I don’t have experience as a UC?” she demanded.

“Yes, you do, but you’re staying home with me, little kitty,” he answered, his ice blue eyes meeting hers.

She melted instantly.

And he knew it.

Her eyes drifted down his form, over his arms and chest, down to his waist where his Glock was tucked into his waistband, and down to his backside. Her nostrils flared as her insides clenched in a silent cry to mate with him, and he smirked.

“Shut up,” she grumbled, and whirled round to face his partner instead. “Are you _still_ banging on about that?”

He looked up with a blank look. “It makes no sense.”

“Neither do you,” she spat. “I went in as a UC a few years ago, protecting a target, and it was an amazing experience. Just trust me on it.”

“Were you successful?” he asked.

“Of course,” she answered indignantly.

“But isn’t it a bit dark in those places?”

“Yes.”

He frowned in confusion. “So how could you see who you were protecting and from whom?”

“Because I never make bad shoots,” she said dryly. Flames blazed in the blue depths of her eyes, and Thranduil noticed.

“Alright,” he announced, folding the printout and stuffing it into his pocket. “I’m going to speak to Thorin about the UCs, and we’re heading off. Neither of us are supposed to be here anyway, seeing as I don’t officially return until the end of next week.”

“How was the house last night?” Balin enquired from behind his monitor screen.

“Tolerable,” he told him. “Definitely not home. But it’s safe, and it’s out of Azog’s scope, so it’ll do.”

“I’m sure it’s much more homely with your lovely lass, there,” Balin said with a smile.

“Definitely,” he murmered, his eyes sliding down her body and back up again.

She laughed, powering the laptop off and turning the chair to face him. Her hands folded behind her head as she crossed her legs. “Are you going to take that to Thorin, or am I?” she asked.

He scowled. “I am. Behave yourself. I won’t be long.” He dropped a brief kiss on her mouth and wound his way in between the desks, trash bins, and discarded jackets and backpacks towards Thorin’s office.

She watched him go, a smile still hovering around her mouth. He moved with an indescribable grace, given his towering height, his hair swishing down his back as he moved in long, confident strides. He turned as he reached the office door, winking at her.

Her cheeks turned pink and she hurriedly swivelled back round to the desk.

Bard chuckled as he reloaded his gun. “You two are good for each other,” he remarked, glancing at her. “I mean it. He’s different since you started seeing one another.”

“You mean before or after the fuck-up?” she asked, not really sure she wanted to know the answer.

“Both,” he said, setting the weapon onto the desk. “Talia…Thran and I…we talk. We tell each other things.”

She looked over at him, and he could see the apprehension in her eyes.

“He’d never tell me anything intimate or personal,” he assured her. “He’s not that kind of guy. But he did tell me that you’re carrying way too much guilt over what happened. And…I know I didn’t exactly help things with the way I reacted.”

She took a deep breath, staying quiet.

“Look – let it go,” he said softly. “It’s gone. It can’t come back, it can’t re-happen. Plant your feet firmly in the present and wave goodbye to the past. Or stick two fingers up at it as it disappears, whichever you choose. Either way, you’re with Thran now, and it’s crystal clear that you’re crazy about each other. Enjoy that. Cherish it. Cherish _him._ You can’t give him a hundred percent of yourself if half of you is locked in the past.”

She chewed on her lower lip as she contemplated his words.

“I’m right,” he said, getting up and going over to the Xerox machine in the corner.

Her eyes followed him, and she knew he _was_ right. How could she commit to Thranduil if she was locked in a prison of guilt and regret? The answer was simple. She couldn’t.

He deserved better than that, and it was only her who could take that final step and drag her foot from what was behind them. He didn’t seem to show any outward signs of resentment over what she’d done, and her gaze lowered to the stapler she was fiddling around with on the desk as her thoughts turned over in her mind. He was a strong person, and perhaps she could draw on some of that strength to finally close off what had happened.

She looked up as he reappeared, a smile instantly forming without her even realising. “Everything alright?” she asked as he crossed the floor towards her.

“Yes. Thorin’s going to arrange for OPS to be done on the warehouse,” he replied. “It’s just a case of waiting to see what he’s having delivered.”

“Any clues as to what?”

He shook his head. “It could be anything. Drugs. Guns. Girls. Anything.”

“Hair straighteners,” Bard quipped as he reclaimed his seat, armed with a bunch of copies which he pointed at him.

“Steel plates for the broken jaw you’re going to get,” he retaliated, making her laugh.

“You two are mental,” she decided, tossing the unused stapler back into the drawer.

Bard grinned maniacally and crossed his eyes at her as Thranduil shook his head.

“Come on sweetheart, I’m taking you away from this mentally-challenged absurdity,” he said, holding his hand out.

She stood up and took it, flashing his partner a grin as she followed him out of the squad room.

*****

Glancing up from stirring the coffee she’d just made, Talia’s brow came down in a slight frown as she assessed Thranduil. He was slouched on the couch, legs spread, his head leaning against the back, the phone held against one ear.

He looked _bored._

One foot rested flat on the floor, the other rocked back and forth on the heel as he listened to whoever was droning on at the other end.

She smiled.

_Extended leave my arse,_ she thought as she padded over to him. He couldn’t disconnect fully from the job, and both of them knew it. Setting his cup down on the small table beside the couch, Bofur’s dulcet tones reached her ears. She turned away to leave him alone, but he reached out and tugged the fabric of her loose top, urging her to sit with him.

She chose to kneel on the floor between his knees, resting her weight on her heels, watching him as she sipped her own coffee.

He made a face at her as he listened to the non-stop babble, and she bit her tongue to hold in her amusement.

“Yes, I know that,” he finally grunted into the phone. “I told Thorin about this two or three days ago. There hasn’t been any movement since we talked about it. No. None.”

His head rolled back again as he sighed quietly.

She ran one hand along his thigh as she sipped her drink. The strong muscles instantly tensed and twitched, but he didn’t lift his head as she glanced up at him. Her hand caressed up to his waist, round his hip and back along to his knee.

He moved his leg ever so slightly.

She smiled to herself, and set her cup on the floor. Placing both hands on his knees, she ran them along the outside of both legs, curving over the top and bringing them back down the insides towards her. He shifted his feet, his legs widening a little as he moved.

She lifted herself up onto her knees, trailing her hands over his lower abdomen in gentle touches. The muscles there twitched, but he still didn’t move. His gaze remained focused on the ceiling above them.

A warm feeling wound its way down through her stomach to pool at the junction between her legs as her gaze was drawn to the growing bulge in his joggers.

She grinned.

Bofur continued to talk incessantly, his voice floating past her as she slowly untied the cord of the joggers, gently easing the soft fabric down.

Still Thranduil didn’t move.

Her hand closed around the erection that presented itself, the organ throbbing under her touch. His back stiffened as he lifted his hips fractionally, pushing further into her hold. She tightened her fingers around him, squeezing as she slowly worked him up and down. Fidgeting on the couch, he shuffled his hips closer, letting his knees fall further apart.

Still the conversation rolled on, and still he kept his eyes firmly above him.

Deciding she was going to make the most of the situation, she released him and swiped her tongue over her palm, reclaiming her hold. He swallowed as she applied pressure, and a small satisfied smile curved her lips. Her free hand rested on his lower abdomen, absorbing the heat that radiated from the tensed muscles.

“Yes, I know that, Bofur. But at the moment, there’s not a lot we can do,” he said, sighing softly.

Too softly for her liking. She lifted herself up onto her knees, her fingers tracing light circles over his stomach. His breath caught as she leaned forwards and swiped her tongue across the tip; just one teasing lick.

He started coughing.

Grinning, she swirled her tongue around the head, taking her time and savouring the experience. Surprised to find him already leaking a little, she cleaned the salty liquid away, humming in pleasure. His hips lifted up off the couch, silently seeking a deeper entry than she was allowing him. Parting her lips further, she slowly took him deeper, millimetre by millimetre. Her grip tightened around his length, absorbing the tremor that shuddered through him.

“Take it up with Thorin if it bothers you that much,” he said, a miniscule part of his mind still managing to concentrate on the conversation.

She continued working her hand up and down, giving a slight twist and applying pressure where she knew it would give him more pleasure. Glancing up at him, his eyes had closed and he was breathing silently through his mouth. Her movements gathered speed as she took him back far enough for him to touch the back of her throat.

He grunted.

She withdrew a little, a smile curving her mouth. Teasing the head, she slid her other hand down and under his sac, caressing the soft skin. He moaned softly, his backside lifting up off the couch a little. The muscles in his legs quivered as he tightened his knees against her.

Placing teasing little licks down to the base, her other hand continued to gently squeeze and caress the soft flesh, and he wriggled from side to side in an effort to increase the pressure. Her tongue flicked back over the head as she licked back up, and she shifted to a more comfortable position between his legs.

It was time to let him finish.

She took him back as far into her mouth as she could go, her hand working up and down in faster, tighter strokes. He throbbed uncontrollably, his heart pounding hard in his chest as he struggled to stay silent.

The coil of pleasure at the base of his spine started to unfurl and spread, and he knew he was close. Leaning forwards, he tugged her up to look at him, his eyes blazing with unshielded lust. One hand moved to the ties at the front of her top, pulling them to open it, revealing her cleavage.

She smiled in understanding, her hand still working on him.

His eyes never left hers, until suddenly he gripped her hand and squeezed it tighter, the two of them moving together. His head jerked back as he exploded over her, his warm semen splashing over her chest and down between her breasts. She gazed up at him as she rubbed the soaked head against her skin, spreading the fluid.

He looked _stunning._

He brought his head forwards again, dragging her physically up and crushing his mouth against hers in a swift but passionate kiss.

Bofur was still yakking in his ear, and she slid back down to sit back on the floor again, resting her head against him once she’d carefully tucked him back into his joggers. His free hand ran through her hair, and before long, she’d drifted off to sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

** CHAPTER NINETEEN **

****

Thranduil sighed as he finally ended the call and tossed the phone onto the far end of the couch. His gaze dropped to his lap, where Talia was curled up on the floor between his legs, her head resting on his inner thigh.

She was sound asleep.

A smile tugged at his mouth as he gazed down at her.

The contentment that he felt flowing through him had no words, no way of description. The warm feeling in his gut was the same, as was the way his heart seemed to swell inside him as he watched her sleep. She meant everything to him, with or without her past and their previous troubles. He’d fallen in love with her with such a force and depth, nothing mattered.

He carefully eased himself forwards, sliding one arm around under her shoulders and the other under her knees, lifting her easily into his arms. Rising to his feet, he walked with her through the apartment to their room, where he gently lowered her on top of the bed. She moaned softly and rolled over onto her side, reaching out as though she was looking for him. He took hold of her hand, and her fingers instinctively curled around his.

He smiled again, and lay down behind her, curling his arm around her as he still held on to her.

By the time he opened his eyes, darkness was beginning to fall over the city. Talia was still asleep, curled into him with her curvy rear pushed against his groin. He lay still for a few minutes as his body woke up. His hand idly stroked the curve of her hip and her waist as he lay relaxed and peaceful.

He shifted slowly, being careful not to waken her, and gently rolled her over onto her back. Her arm flopped out and landed on the pillow where his head had been, and she sighed in her sleep.

He smiled.

He wanted her to sigh for a different reason.

And he was going to make her.

Balancing his weight on his elbow and leaning over her, he began.

*****

“Sorry for calling you, but I thought you’d want to know about this,” Bard apologised, setting three cups of coffee onto the desk.

Thranduil slid one towards Talia. “No, that’s alright,” he replied. “When did it arrive?”

“Early hours of this morning,” he answered as he sat down. “Balin alerted me as soon as I came on shift.”

Talia frowned as she read the email that had been printed out. “This states that the delivery is due to arrive on Wednesday,” she said. “The email I read from Azog’s emails definitely said Tuesday. This doesn’t make sense.”

“Are you sure you didn’t get the wrong day?” Fili asked, perched on the edge of the adjacent desk.

She glared at him. “No. It definitely said _Dienstag,_ which is Tuesday. Wednesday is _Mittwoch._ It doesn’t read or sound similar. I can speak the language.”

Bofur leaned against the filing cabinet and folded his arms. “Something’s off if he’s delaying whatever this is arriving,” he said. “Azog’s known for his punctuality as well as his brutality. He’d never delay something, not even his newspaper delivery. It’s not his style.”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” Thranduil agreed. “We need to find out what the hell it is that he’s having delivered.”

“Well, whatever it is, it’s not being flown in,” Bard said. “My friend at the airfield tells me that no private or haulage flights have been scheduled until Friday next week.”

“So it’s coming by road,” his partner said, staring at something in the distance. He snapped back to reality. “How are we on the UCs?”

“Nothing to report,” Thorin replied. “No movement, no signs of life anywhere near that warehouse.”

Thranduil leaned over to reach his coffee, his long hair brushing against Talia’s arm as he moved. Her flesh tingled in awareness, and memories of the previous night drifted back to her, when his hair had trailed all over her naked body as he’d licked and teased her to a screaming orgasm.

She blinked hard and shook her head like a dog, trying to clear it. “Let’s just hope we don’t have the wrong location,” she said. “Does he have more than one of these joints?”

Bofur shook his head. “No. Just the one.”

“Maybe it’s the following Tuesday,” Bombur commented through a mouthful of chips.

She shook her head. “No. The date on the email was the 23rd, and he said Tuesday, so common sense would dictate that it’s the Tuesday after he sent it.”

“And common sense would dictate that you keep your mitts _off_ my stuff!” Dwalin said crossly, grabbing the bag of chips and wrenching them from his hands. “Goddammit – you’re like a human trash disposal unit.”

“They’ve been on your desk for three days!” Bombur protested, spitting crumbs everywhere.

“And that just means I hadn’t had the time to eat them!” he shouted.

Thranduil shook his head and turned his back to them as they bickered between themselves. “We need to keep a close eye on the highway just south of the location,” he said. “Whatever’s headed that way will have to pass through that route.”

“Unless he’s having whatever it is flown in by chopper,” Bard said. “But I doubt it. I don’t think he has access to one.”

Balin snorted. “With his wealth, it wouldn’t be difficult to procure one,” he reminded him. “I’m surprised he doesn’t own one, to be honest.”

“He’d have to refile his tax figures, and that would be too much like hard work,” Thorin said. “He’s lazy. He pays people to do everything for him, but that’s the one thing he’d do himself. He doesn’t like people knowing how much he has or is worth.”

“What’s the story with Bolg’s mother? Is she still on the scene?” Talia asked curiously. “He could have one under her name.”

“She vanished years ago,” Bard replied. “Nobody knows where, and nothing’s ever surfaced. It’s like she disappeared off the face of the planet.”

“Maybe she did,” she murmered.

Behind her, Dwalin and Bombur were still arguing.

The phone on the desk rang and she lifted the receiver. “Taylor,” she said.

Silence.

She prodded Thranduil with one finger, and he turned to look at her.

He held a hand up, and the room fell into a deathly silence. She pressed the button on the console to transfer the call to loudspeaker.

“Ms Taylor,” a deep voice spoke. “At last…we speak.”

Her eyes remained on Thranduil’s. “And you are?” she asked.

A quiet rumble of laughter. “I believe you are already acquainted with myself,” the voice replied. “Although until now, I have not been acquainted with you. We share a common interest.”

“Do tell,” she said, her instinct telling her loud and clear that the caller was Cycnus Azog.

“We both have a passion for our chosen line of work, and we both carry out that line of work with skill and precision,” he said. “We take no prisoners.”

She instantly read the threat that was concealed between the lines of his words. “No, I don’t,” she agreed. “But you already know that.”

Silence.

“And the event you speak of shall remain burned into my soul for the rest of my existence,” he said, his tone slightly darker. “Forgiveness is not an option.”

Thranduil’s eyes narrowed slightly as he held her gaze.

“I wouldn’t expect it to be,” she replied. “I assume this isn’t a social call?”

“Ms Taylor, I do not _do_ social calls,” the voice answered.

“I gathered that,” she said.

“The clock is ticking. I simply wished to make our acquaintance, nothing more,” he said.

She blinked, a thought instantly firing through her brain. “And the pleasure has been all mine,” she said, grabbing the email printout and a pencil. “Although perhaps a meeting face to face would have been more polite than a telephone call?” She scribbled frantically, and Thranduil leaned closer to read as she was forming the words.

_Clear the building NOW_

He straightened, the shock clear in his eyes. Moving swiftly, he held a finger to his lips and motioned for everybody to get out of the squad room. The cops quietly hopped down from desks or whatever they’d been sitting on and headed out into the corridor. His head whipped back round to face her.

“I do not see that as being beneficial to either of us,” Azog told her. “I am afraid our meeting in person would not be as friendly as you would like.”

“You don’t disappoint me,” she replied, rising to her feet and cutting off loudspeaker. She took the hand Thranduil held out for her, hurrying after him as he rushed her out of the room and along the corridor. “I would expect quite a few grievances to be aired.” She spoke into the receiver she held against her ear.

The door at the top of the stairwell clattered off the wall behind it as he crashed it open, pulling her down the stairs.

“You sound as though you are on the move,” the deep voice drawled in her ear. “This angers me, Ms Taylor. It is not good manners when in the middle of a conversation.”

She cut the connection, bursting from a run into a full sprint. “He’s got something planned!” she panted.

No sooner were the words out of her mouth, the stairs beneath them shook violently as a loud _boom_ echoed through the building. She screamed and lurched forwards, her body slamming hard against the wall facing her at the bottom. The wind was knocked from her as she slumped down onto the floor, and she wheezed as she fought to breathe.

Thranduil had fallen next to her, and lay motionless.

“Thranduil!” she cried, painfully dragging herself around to face him. “THRANDUIL!”

His hand moved and he grunted painfully.

“Baby, we have to move!” she urged, panicking. “That bastard’s set a bomb off, and there could be another one somewhere!” Her gaze lifted to the top of the stairs as an ominous creaking noise sounded, and she watched in horror as the roof began collapsing, the debris hurtling down towards them. “THRANDUIL!!”

“Thran! Talia!” Bard’s voice hollered.

She screamed for him as she tried to drag her lover out of the way of the stairs, but his weight was too much for her. The wreckage had gained momentum as it had fallen, and she threw herself between it and his body to shield him. The force of pieces of steel and concrete crashing into her knocked her over the top of him, crushing her.

Darkness swirled around the edges of her vison as she swallowed, struggling to draw air into her lungs. Muffled shouts and roars reached her ears as she blinked, watching the darkness gradually take over what she could see.

*****

Concerned brown eyes peering into hers was the first thing she saw when she opened hers. She blinked, trying to remove the sensation of grit and sand in her eyes.

“Thranduil?” she whispered painfully.

“He’s fine,” Bard told her. “Don’t worry about him, he’s absolutely fine. He’s being seen by the medics.”

Her gaze shifted past him as she tried to assess where she was. Bright blue sky provided the backdrop behind his shoulders, and she realised she was outside.

“I need to see him,” she gasped, trying to sit up.

“Calm down, you’ll see him,” he promised, holding a hand against her shoulder to prevent her from moving. “The medics won’t be long. They’ll want to talk to you before they allow you to move.”

“Fuck them,” she whispered shakily. “I need him.”

“I’m right here, little kitty,” Thranduil’s deep voice said, and he appeared in her line of vision.

Bard stepped away.

She gazed up at him, tears in her eyes as he grasped her hands in both of his. He was covered in cuts and gashes, several of which were held closed with steri-strips. His cheek and forehead were grazed, and his lower lip had traces of blood.

He moved one hand to gently caress her cheek. “How do you feel?” he whispered softly.

She didn’t answer, as her tears started to fall. The look in his eyes changed from concern and worry to anguish as he leaned over her, pressing his mouth against her trembling one.

“Sshhh,” he murmered. “Everything’s alright, baby. I’m here, and I’m not leaving your side. I promise.”

She tugged her hands from his and wound them around his shoulders, not letting him stand back up. Her body shook as she clung to him, the shock of what had happened kicking in. Gentle hands stroked her hair as he held her, murmering soft words to comfort her. Sobs tore through her as she realised just how close she’d come to losing him.

“Sir…ma’am…we need a moment,” a voice said, cutting in on the moment between the two.

“Give them a minute,” Thorin’s voice ordered. “Back off and give them a minute.”

Thranduil closed his eyes as he held her, scared to believe that she was alright after what had happened. He’d been shocked when he’d regained consciousness, which had turned to anger when Bard had told him that she’d thrown herself between him and the falling debris from the ceiling.

That fury had vanished the moment she’d looked into his eyes, her own showing terror and fear. He couldn’t be angry with her when he saw how terrified she was.

Slowly shifting his weight, he eased them both up so she was in a sitting position, still holding her tightly. “The medics need a word,” he said softly, kissing her cheek. “Can you speak to them? I’ll be right here.”

She nodded, sniffing as she clenched fistfuls of his shirt. She slid her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, pulling back from him only a few inches. Distressed blue eyes stared into his. “Are you alright?” she asked brokenly.

He nodded. “I’m fine,” he assured her. “Some cuts and bruises, but I’m alright. I promise.”

She nodded, accepting his answer. Her hands swept over his chest and torso, looking for signs of injury.

“Talia, I’m fine,” he whispered, catching hold of her wrists and holding her hands against his chest. “I’m ok.”

The medic appeared behind him, coughing discreetly. Thranduil glared at him over his shoulder, moving reluctantly to one side, but keeping her hands in his.

Thorin approached him. “Good to see she’s conscious,” he said quietly as the medic began examining her and asking her questions.

He nodded. “She knew,” he said. “She knew what he was planning. That’s why she wrote on that printout. She knew.”

Thorin nodded in agreement. “I’m moving you guys from the safe house,” he said. “It’s not safe. If that bastard knew you were in the precinct, he’ll know where you’re living. I’m going to place you somewhere else.”

Thranduil nodded. “I’m not so sure Talia should be on the task force,” he said.

She squeezed his fingers, letting him know she was listening as the medic checked her pulse and her blood pressure.

“Try talking her out of being on it,” his colleague said dryly. “I have the feeling she’d cause more damage than that bomb did.”

His gaze went over to the wreckage across the street. “What’s the extent of the damage?”

Thorin sighed. “We had twelve prisoners in lock-up,” he said quietly. “Now we have none. Seven cops died as well.”

A tense silence fell.

“The initial blast waves and the following shock waves have ripped the middle of the building to shreds,” he continued. He shook his head regretfully. “There’s nothing left. Just the shell that still stands.”

Talia shoved the annoying medic away and swung her legs over the side of the trolley she’d been placed on. She looked up at Thranduil. “I want to go home,” she said softly.

He nodded, hesitating between staying around to help with the impending investigation and clean-up, and taking her away from the scene of devastation.

“Go,” Thorin told him, sensing his deliberation. “I’ll have Dwalin take you, and we’ll arrange for whatever you have in the safe house to be brought to you.”

“Thankyou,” he murmered, his gaze on her. “We’re being moved from the safe house,” he told her as his colleague disappeared into the throng of officers. “Thorin doesn’t feel it’s safe for us there anymore.”

“It’s not safe anywhere,” she said quietly. “He won’t stop until we stop him. I can feel it.”

“Maybe we should play dead and see what happens,” he suggested.

She shook her head. “Not an option. He’ll already know we survived the bomb. He has eyes everywhere, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s somewhere nearby, watching us. These sick psychos have a tendency to go back to the scene and witness for themselves the devastation they’ve caused. They can’t help it.” She slid forwards and down onto her feet as Dwalin made his way towards them, wobbling on her legs a little.

Thranduil’s arms immediately enclosed her in a firm hold. “Are you ok to move?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Yes. I need to get away from here, get you away from here,” she told him, squeezing his biceps. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are we good to go, folks?” Dwalin asked as he approached them. “Thorin’s given me an address to take you; only myself and Bard will know where you are.”

Thranduil nodded, finally tearing his gaze away from his woman and meeting his. “Yes. Let’s go.”


	20. Chapter 20

** CHAPTER TWENTY **

****

The voile curtains rippled gently as a slight breeze drifted in through the open window, catching Talia’s attention as she gazed across the room. A gentle hand on her lower back made her turn her head.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Thranduil asked. “You’ve been really quiet all day.”

She nodded. “Yes. I’m just processing everything. Analysing and dissecting. Looking at today from different angles.”

Thorin appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen, a towel slung over his right shoulder. “Dinner is about five minutes away,” he said. “I hope you guys are hungry. I’ve made enough lasagne to feed the next three blocks.”

She smiled. “You didn’t have to. I’d have been happy to cook.”

He merely lifted one eyebrow in a _don’t be ridiculous_ look and turned back to the kitchen.

“I’m not a hundred percent happy with crashing here,” she said, turning to Thranduil. “We’re putting him at risk.”

“We’ve already crossed swords over it,” he told her. The heat from his hand was infusing itself into her back, soothing aching muscles. “I told him we’d hole up in a hotel somewhere, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

She nodded, her head lowering as she breathed through the pain in her back.

“Talia…are you sure you’re ok?” he asked, leaning forwards in concern.

“Yeah..yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “I’m just sore, everywhere.”

“A ceiling of concrete and steel will do that for you,” Thorin said, reappearing in the doorway. “Maybe soak in the tub after dinner?”

“Sounds good,” she replied, forcing a smile as she sat upright again. “I’m ok, honestly,” she added to Thranduil. His ice blue eyes searched hers, seeking reassurance.

“I will run that bath for you once you’ve eaten something,” he told her. “And it probably wouldn’t do you any harm to have an early night. Get some rest.”

“Grub’s up,” Thorin called from the kitchen. “Shall I bring it through there?”

“No,” she called back, slowly getting to her feet, aided by gentle pressure on her back to help her. “We’ll come through.” Thranduil rose and followed her, not breaking the contact. He pulled a seat out at the table for her, giving her a quick kiss as he sat in the one adjacent to her right.

“I hope this is edible,” their host muttered, spooning large portions of lasagne onto three plates. “I haven’t made this is a long time. Not since…” He trailed off.

“Thorin’s wife, Ellie, passed away a few years ago,” Thranduil explained quietly.

Talia’s jaw dropped. “Oh Thorin…I’m so sorry,” she said.

He shrugged, forcing a smile. “Some days are harder than others,” he said. “I can count on the fingers of one hand how many times I’ve had people over since she died.”

“We shouldn’t be intruding on your privacy,” she said, glancing at Thranduil.

Thorin scoffed. “Nonsense. I wouldn’t have you anywhere else. Besides, I’m looking forward to a bit of life around the house again for a while. It’s probably been too long.”

She scooped up a forkful of the meal, popping it into her mouth. “How long ago did it happen?” she asked.

“Four years,” he replied. He waved a dismissive hand as her worried eyes darted back to Thranduil. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve become accustomed to my own company, probably too accustomed.”

“That happens,” the blonde commented, and Talia remembered he’d been through the same when his wife had died.

“Have you spoken with Legolas recently, updated him on what’s been going on?” Thorin asked through a mouthful.

He shook his head. “I spoke with him last week; told him we were going away for a few days,” he answered. “I haven’t spoken to him since then. I’ll call him in the morning, and give him the heads-up to stay away for the time being. I don’t want him visiting while all this is going on.” His eyes moved to Talia. “He’s anxious to meet you.”

Her eyes widened. “Me? Why?”

“Because I’m going to marry you?”

Thorin laughed, digging in to his meal. “That might be a reason,” he remarked.

“You’ve told him about me?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said incredulously. “I held back on some of the details though – some things he really doesn’t need to know.”

She nodded, knowing he was referring to the blow-up with the S&S unit and her disappearance afterwards. “Yes. I think I’d be a little more comfortable with that particular aspect remaining buried.”

“Me too,” he said. “He’s eighteen, he’s still a kid to me in some ways, and he doesn’t have to know every single thing that went on. All he needs to know is that his old man is happy.”

“I agree,” Thorin put in. “Kids sure don’t tell us every single detail of their lives. Both sides are entitled to some privacy.”

“Did you have any kids?” she asked.

He nodded. “One. A girl, Ruby. She’s studying to be a doctor.” A broad smile lit up his face, and she smiled back.

“You must be really proud of her,” she said. “And this lasagne is gorgeous.”

“Thankyou, and I am,” he said. “She’s like her mother in so many ways.”

“It could be worse,” Thranduil said. “She could look exactly like you. God help us.”

Talia burst out laughing as Thorin glared at him.

“Just watch it, you big lanky lamp-post,” he warned, pointing his fork menacingly at him.

“What will you do, head-butt my knees?” he quipped, lifting his glass of wine. He winked at her, biting back his own grin. “You know I’m just messing around, small person.”

Thorin looked across the table at her. “I have to put up with this shit at work, now I have to deal with it at home too,” he said. “I need my damned head examined.”

“Don’t we all,” Thranduil murmered. He glanced at her. “Would you rather have a coffee, sweetheart?”

She nodded. “I’ll get one after we’ve finished,” she said, touching her hand to his arm as he moved to get up. “Honestly. I can wait.”

“Talia, what made you clear the precinct during that phone call?” Thorin asked.

She swallowed the mouthful she had. “He said the clock was ticking,” she answered. “That set off alarm bells in my head. It didn’t fit in with the conversation, or the word flow. It just didn’t sound like it belonged, like he’d dropped that in there on purpose.”

Beside her, Thranduil set his knife down and switched his fork over to his right hand, taking her hand in his left as it rested on the table between them. “Why would he go to the trouble of setting up a bomb and then warning us about it?”

“Sick satisfaction, watching us panic trying to escape,” she told him. “I’ll guarantee he was somewhere close by, sitting back and watching the chaos. I’d bet my bottom dollar on it.”

“The bastard’s certainly sick enough in the head,” Thranduil agreed, his tone sombre. “He’d get a kick watching officers fight for their lives.” His eyes flicked towards her. “Come on baby…eat some more.”

“I’m stuffed,” she said, putting her fork down. “I’m just so tired and sore just now. I’ve not got much of an appetite. But it _was_ delicious, Thorin.”

“I’ll get you a coffee,” he replied, getting to his feet.

“No, I’ll get it,” she said.

“I insist,” he told her, leaving the table and crossing the immaculate kitchen to the kettle.

“I’m on dish-washing duty then,” she bargained.

“No, you’re going to relax in the bath for a while,” Thranduil corrected her. “I’ll see to the dishes. You’ve had a traumatic day.”

“And you haven’t?” she demanded. “You’re more injured than I am. I don’t have band-aids and butterfly stitches all over me.”

“No, you don’t,” he agreed. “But you _do_ have what I would guess to be a considerable number of bruises which are slowly making an appearance as we speak. My injuries are on the surface. Yours are deeper.”

Thorin lifted his cell phone from the worktop as it beeped an incoming message. “Hmm,” he murmered.

Both heads turned to look over at him.

“The fire chief’s submitted his report,” he told them, glancing up from the phone. “They found where the bomb was located. It was in a locker.”

A chill went down Talia’s spine. “It was an inside job,” she whispered. Horrified eyes turned to Thranduil. “Azog has somebody on the inside.”

Ice blue eyes held hers. “It would appear so,” he said, anger filtering across the perfect irises. “Goddammit…” He turned away, fury flooding through his blood. “How the _fuck_ can this happen?!” he thundered to Thorin. “The force is supposed to be a _family._ We’re supposed to look out for one another, cover each other’s backs!” He leapt to his feet, towering over them and everything else in the room. “We need to find out just whose locker that bomb was in. They’ll wish they were never fucking born!”

Talia reached up and gently twisted her fingers around his, and he whipped back to her. His eyes softened instantly as he saw the look in hers as she gazed up at him. Breathing heavily, he crashed back down onto the seat.

Thorin went back to flipping through the message. “It was in Cody Wallace’s,” he said. “And he died in the blast.” The phone was returned to the worktop and he slid his hands in his pockets. “A martyr for his cause.”

A heavy silence filled the room.

“I’m going to have that bath,” Talia murmered, releasing Thranduil’s hand and getting up. She leaned over and kissed him. “I’ll just go to bed when I’m done.”

He trailed his hand down her back as she walked away, saying her goodnights to their host. Worried eyes followed her as she disappeared.

“She’s strong,” Thorin remarked. “But you’ll still need to keep an eye on her. I think she was hurt more than she’s letting on.”

Thranduil nodded. “I think so too. But she’s as stubborn as an ox.”

“ _She_ can hear you, because _she_ has hearing like a bat,” she called from the bedroom, making the two men chuckle.

Thranduil lifted his glass of wine and crossed to take the coffee Thorin had made. “I’ll take this through to her,” he said. “I think I might stay with her until she falls asleep.”

“That’s fine,” his friend replied. “I’m thinking of having an early night myself. It’s been a long day all round, and will be a longer one tomorrow.”

“Alright. I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, and padded through in the direction Talia had gone. He found her in the en suite bathroom, the hot water already filling the tub, with lots of candles lit and bubbles foaming under the running water.

“I thought you were going to talk with Thorin for a while,” she said, whipping her top up and tossing it onto the bed.

His eyes roamed her upper body as she turned her back to pick up a hair band. Frowning, he stepped closer as she wound her long hair up on top of her head, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her spine. “Your bruises are coming out already,” he said. “Little kitty has some ouches.” His soft, warm lips touched her back in the most gentle, tender kiss she’d ever experienced, and she stilled in the task of tying her hair up. Warm kisses moved up the curve of her back, just gentle touches of his mouth against her skin. Nothing sexual, just loving touches that made her feel warm inside.

She turned her head as he reached her shoulder, giving him her profile. “I love you,” she whispered, lifting her eyes to look into his as he rose to his full height behind her. “I love you more than anything.”

“I know you do,” he whispered back, combing one hand through her hair. “And I love you too. But I’m still pissed off at what you did, Talia. I won’t deny that. But it’s done; I’m not going to make an issue.”

She smirked slightly as she moved away, removing the rest of her clothing. “You brought it up, therefore you just did,” she told him. “I acted on instinct, ok? End of conversation. It’s done.” She turned and went into the bathroom, dipping her hand into the water to check the heat. Satisfied, she turned the faucet off and lifted one leg to climb in.

Warm hands settled on her hips behind her, taking her by surprise.

“I do not want you to slip and fall,” he said, helping to guide her to sit in the hot, bubbled water. He kicked his sneakers off and shucked out of his jeans. “Scoot forward a little.”

She smiled, wriggling along the base of the tub. The remainder of his garments landed on the floor, and the water sloshed as he climbed in behind her. Strong arms wrapped around her and gently leaned her back against his chest.

“Better?” he asked, his mouth close to her ear.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said, placing a kiss on her cheek. “Now relax.”

*****

The next morning, Talia awoke in agony. She felt as though she’d gone head-to-head against somebody armed with a baseball bat, with herself having no weapons or any form of defence. Every bone and muscle ached, and she involuntarily groaned as she attempted to roll over.

“Babe?”

Thranduil rose to his elbow at her side, his long hair sweeping down over his shoulder. A concerned frown dipped low over his eyes.

“I’m alright,” she gasped, struggling to move. “Christ…I think I did ten rounds with Tyson. I’m sore everywhere.”

“I thought the bath last night would have helped a little,” he said. His warm hand caressed over her thigh to her stomach, rubbing small circles. “Do you need to see a doctor?”

“Hell no!” she grunted, settling herself onto her back and turning her head to look up at him. “It’s just aches and pains, I’ll get through it. I’ll take a couple of painkillers when I get up, and see it they take the edge off it a wee bit.”

“You were sore yesterday, but not like this,” he murmered. “Although we did say the bruises would appear today.” He lifted his elbow, raising the duvet, and whistled. “Wow.”

She peered down. “I don’t see anything,” she murmered.

“Your entire side is black and blue,” he told her. “And I’ll bet your back is the same. I’ll check when you feel capable of getting up.”

She huffed. “It’s only bruising. It’ll heal. I’ll get some arnica gel if it’s too bad.”

He raised his eyebrows. “From what I can see along your side, I’m almost dreading what your back is going to be like,” he said. “It might take a little more than gel.”

“I could always use menthol toothpaste or Vick’s with salt,” she said. “But arnica is the most effective at dealing with bruises. Let’s see how I am first. I need to pee.”

He chuckled as he sat up and slid his arm under her shoulders, helping her into a sitting position. Concerned eyes swept down her back as he pulled her hair aside.

“Bad?”

He pursed his mouth before nodding. “Yes.”

She carefully swung her legs over the edge of the bed, stood up, and waddled through to the bathroom. “Holy shit!” she shouted through. “That _is_ pretty damned impressive, even if I do say so myself. I look like Prince.”

“What?” His confused frown made her laugh as she stuck her head back through the doorway.

“The Purple Wonder,” she explained, disappearing from view again and closing the door over a little. She re-emerged again a few minutes later. “Listen, I’m sorry about last night,” she said, kneeling with care on the edge of the bed.

His frown deepened. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t feel like…doing anything.”

The frown disappeared to be replaced with an icy look. “If you think for _one_ minute that sex is even an issue right now-“

“I don’t,” she interrupted. “But I don’t want you to suffer either.”

His nostrils flared as he glared at her.

“I’ve pissed you off,” she said softly.

“Yes,” he snapped. “You have.” The quilt was tossed aside and he leapt out of the bed, facing her with his fists planted just above the waistband of his shorts. “For God’s sake Talia…what the _fuck_ is going through your mind right now? What kind of a man do you think I am?!”

She closed her eyes and looked away with a sigh. “A red-blooded, healthy one,” she answered, looking back up at him. “One with needs and a sex drive like everyone else. One that I just don’t feel fit enough to take care of right now.” Her last words had dropped to a whisper.

He shook his head, exhaling slowly as he lowered his weight to sit in front of her. Lifting her chin with his forefinger, he made her look at him. “Forget sex,” he said quietly. “The most important thing here is that you heal, and you rest. Not finding new positions for the kama sutra, not swinging off the rafters, not fucking. Do you understand?”

She nodded grudgingly.

“Good,” he said, leaning towards her with a gentle kiss. “I love you, you crazy woman. I don’t need sex to prove that or to show it, and neither do you. Now let’s get you a coffee, something to eat, and get rid of this crap you’ve got running through your fickle little mind, ok?” Concerned eyes searched hers.

She nodded again.

His eyes lifted towards the doorway as a cacophony of racket filtered through. “Sounds like Bard and his usual state of chaos that surrounds him is here already,” he murmered. He looked back at her. “Come on little kitty…stop thinking like this. It’s going to be alright, I promise.” He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered. “I-“

“Hey! Quit bonking in there and get your arses through here!” Bard’s holler echoed through the house. “I brought croissants and Starbucks! C’mon, before Thorin devours the lot!”

The two grinned at each other, the seriousness of the moment gone.

“Time to face the rat-race,” Thranduil mused, reaching for her bath robe. “I suppose we can’t delay it any longer.”

She stood up and he slid it over her shoulders, tying the sash at her waist. Standing up on her toes, she pressed her mouth against his. “Last one through has to wash last night’s dishes,” she said, tearing away from him and making for the door with a laugh.

He grinned, shaking his head as he reached for his own robe.


	21. Chapter 21

** CHAPTER TWENTY ONE **

****

A few days passed; quiet and uneventful.

Thorin spent his days at work, housed in a temporary set-up in a local government building, which he moaned endlessly about. Lack of air conditioning. Lack of decent coffee. Not having his own office. Not knowing where the hell half of the cops were.

Azog had been suspiciously silent, which picked at his nerves. Convinced he would’ve stepped up the pressure or made another move, all had been quiet on the Western front, and that unnerved him.

Talia didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned, much to his surprise.

“He’s waiting until tomorrow,” she responded to his incessant muttering, looking up from painting her toenails. One foot was lifted up so her knee was tucked against her chest, and she blew over the sparkly pink polish. “I don’t think I like this,” she said to Thranduil.

“Change it then, baby,” he said.

“It’s the only one I have with me,” she muttered in disgust, sliding her foot back down to the floor. “Seriously Thorin, wait until Wednesday. He’s not going to surface anywhere until then; I’m pretty sure about it.”

The other man grunted, going through to his room.

Thranduil smiled over at her as he tapped away on his laptop. “He’s getting his knickers in a twist,” he commented. “And I don’t think being outside of his normal stomping ground is working well with him.”

“No, I agree. He’s out of his comfort zone,” she said. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

She hauled herself up off the couch and waddled on her heels through to the kitchen.

Thranduil watched her, his eyebrows arching down slightly. “How’s your back?” he asked.

“Better,” she replied. “I told you that arnica was a good thing. The bruises are starting to fade already. I’m feeling stronger every day.” She flashed a smile at him as she switched the kettle on. “Do we have any candy?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Is that sweet tooth of yours making itself known again?” A grin accompanied his words. Many times in the months they’d known each other, she’d got up through the night for candy, or slammed the car to a halt on impulse to drop in on a candy store. She seemed as addicted to her sugary treats as much as she was her coffee.

“Mmm,” she murmered as she raided the kitchen cupboards. “Not one piece of goddamned chocolate, not one single squidgy sweet. This stinks. I need sugar.”

“Have a piece of fruit,” he suggested. “You’ll get the natural sugars.”

“I don’t want the natural sugars,” she scowled. “I want the not-good-for-you kind. The kind only found in candy. Fuck.”

He chuckled, turning back to his laptop.

“I’m going to jump down to the store on the corner,” she decided with determination. “I can’t live like this. I’ll kill somebody.” Stomping back through to the lounge, she stuffed her feet into her sneakers. “D’you need anything?”

He shook his head. “Do you want me to go for you? Or go with you?” he asked.

“Nope. I won’t be five minutes,” she said. “Gimme a kiss…”

Leaning towards him, her eyes closed and she purred in pleasure as his mouth touched hers, his tongue lightly teasing her lower lip. Pulling back, she gazed at him with dazed eyes.

He smiled, running his forefinger down her cheek. “I love you, little kitty.”

“I love you too, Blondie,” she replied, diving back for another quick kiss. “Won’t be long. You can make the coffee by the time I get back.”

With that, she turned and headed for the bedroom they shared. Lifting a twenty dollar bill from the night stand, her gaze lingered on her weapon, and she hesitated. Shrugging, she tucked it into the waistband of her jeans, deciding better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it. Her t-shirt concealed it.

The door slammed at her back and she crossed the driveway to Thranduil’s SUV, getting into the driver’s seat. Within a moment or two she was out on the road and gunning it towards the store on the corner.

A parking spot opened up conveniently as she approached, making her smile. A woman armed with a gun and needing candy was _not_ to be messed with. The SUV slid neatly into the space, and she got out and went into the store.

Armed with enough chocolate to keep a small army going, she tossed it onto the passenger seat and climbed back in, slamming the door closed as she started the engine.

She gasped as the barrel of a gun thudded against her temple.

“Drive,” a deep voice growled.

*****

Thranduil yawned and stretched both arms over his head, then lowered them again with a frown. Talia should have been back from the store, unless she’d bumped into somebody she knew and had started the usual hour-long conversation that women seemed to be able to do at the drop of a hat. He glanced at the time on his laptop screen – she’d been gone for twenty five minutes.

Something uncurled deep in his gut, spreading through him slowly.

Fear.

Something was wrong, he could feel it.

Rising to his feet with a curse, he strode through to their room to see if she’d taken her cell phone. It wasn’t lying on the bed or the unit, and he opened the drawer to see if she’d placed it inside.

His heart stopped.

Her phone was lying in the drawer, on top of the book she’d almost finished.

So was something else.

*****

Talia kept her eyes on the road, knowing as soon as they’d hit the freeway where they were going. “You’re predictable, if nothing else,” she said, breaking the silence.

A snort of derision sounded behind her. “So predictable, that you didn’t see this coming,” Azog replied. “Just drive, and shut the fuck up.”

“You think this won’t be the first place they’ll look?” she stated, watching the traffic behind her in the mirror. None of the vehicles looked familiar, but she wasn’t particularly surprised at that. “You think taking me out of the game will end it? Ha – not a chance.”

The gun tapped against her temple, hard. “Just keep driving,” he snarled.

She clenched her teeth, knowing that if she reached for her gun, he’d blow her brains out before she could get to it.

She kept driving.

*****

“I should _never_ have let her go by herself!” Thranduil ranted, breathing hard in his panic as he dragged both hands through his hair. “What was I thinking?!”

Bard glanced at Thorin in the rear view mirror, worry in his look. “You can’t keep her a prisoner, buddy,” he said. “She’d have strung you up if you’d tried.”

“She’s my goddamned fiancée!” he bit out. “I should never have let her go…if she dies, it’s my fault.”

“Hey, enough of that shit,” Thorin said firmly. “Talia’s not going to die, and you should know this. She’s a fighter. She’s a warrior. She’s not going to give up, you know that.”

Thranduil said nothing, just turned his blurred eyes to look out of the side window as they sped along in Bard’s car. “I should’ve seen this,” he whispered.

“You’re a lot of things, Thran, but psychic sure as hell isn’t one of them,” his partner responded. “I know you’re damned good, but…”

“Dwalin’s on his way with the rest of the team,” Thorin said from the back seat, swiping through his phone. “I just hope you’re right with the location.”

“She’s there,” Thranduil whispered, still gazing out of the window. But he didn’t see anything. “I know she’s there.”

*****

Talia’s head whipped to the side as Azog’s hefty fist back-handered her. She shook it to clear the dazed feeling, staring back up at him.

She laughed.

His eyes changed; fury blazing in the depths as he glared down at her. “You think this is funny?” he demanded, his voice little more than a low snarl. “You think you are in a situation where you can _laugh?_ ” He seemed indignant at her response.

She shrugged, as best she could with the grip he had on her. “Yeah. I do. I _know_ it’s a situation where I can laugh, because I _know_ what’s coming to you, you spineless piece of shit.”

He dragged her up off her feet into the air, snarling at her as he held her mere millimetres from his face. “You know _nothing,_ ” he challenged. “You have absolutely no idea.”

She smirked. “I know that you’re not going to live to see the darkness at the end of today,” she whispered. “And that’s a God-given fact.”

He threw her aside, tossing her as though she weighed nothing, and she howled in pain as she crashed against a pile of wooden storage crates. “You yourself will die before this day is over,” he vowed. “You took the life of my son. You will pay for that.”

Rubbing the back of her head, she hauled herself into a sitting position. “Yes. And he squealed like a stuck pig,” she hissed.

The giant before her moved like lightning, but she’d already read his thoughts in his eyes and flipped herself over, jumping into a crouched position. Her hands and one knee braced on the dirty floor as she stared at him, silently challenging him.

“You fancy a shot?” she taunted him. “You think you can take me? I _dare_ you.”

Seconds slowly ticked past as he held her stare, neither of them flinching. Both fighters glared at each other, trying to get a read on what the other was going to do next.

Talia tipped her upper body back as he swung a sudden punch at her, the closed fist sailing harmlessly through the air. Her right foot flipped round and connected with his rib cage, making him grunt.

_Damn._

The guy was built like a brick shit-house, and she knew it wouldn’t be easy taking him down in hand-to-hand combat, no matter how well she was trained. Her gun was missing from her waistband, and she had no idea when or where it had fallen.

The air left her lungs with an _oomph_ as he grabbed her round the waist, his hands squeezing hard as he lifted her off her feet. She wrenched both arms out and slammed the outside edge of both hands against his neck, hitting the pressure points just below his ears. The impact made him loosen his grip, and she wriggled to the floor.

_Fuck it,_ she thought. _I can’t win this._

She spun on her heel and took off at a sprint, tearing across the warehouse floor. Angry roars followed her as he started chasing her, but she was much lighter and smaller, and soon put a good distance between them. Finding herself cornered, she leapt up and gripped the wooden rafter above her, hauling herself up and onto it.

“Time for you to die,” he growled, prowling around below her. “You can’t stay up there forever.”

Shrugging, she balanced on her heels. “You can’t stay down there forever,” she retaliated. “Come and get me if you can.”

His eyes sparkled in fury as he stopped pacing and glared up at her. A slow smile curved over his mouth, parting his lips to reveal a row of rotted, uneven teeth. He looked to one side, and her eyes followed to see what had caught his attention.

A long piece of polished wood lay on the floor in the corner, partly hidden behind a pile of old mail bags. She frowned as he walked over to it, sliding it out and lifting it.

A feeling of dread took over as he turned; the polished wood was the handle of an axe, an axe with a massive head. Too late, she pivoted on the beam and hurried along it.

Azog swung it over his head and it chopped through the wood in one fell swoop. The beam smashed to the floor, dislodging her and sending her to a crumpled heap in a pile of splintered wood. The walls and the garbage lying around spun around her at speed as he grabbed the back of her clothing and hauled her to her feet.

*****

“There’s the car!” Thranduil yelled, making Thorin jump in the back seat. “Stop! Stop! Let me out!”

Bard managed to slam the brakes on and bring the vehicle to a screeching stop as he opened the door and jumped out, taking off at a run towards the seemingly derelict warehouse. The two piled out of the car, hurrying in the same direction.

Thranduil came to an abrupt halt as the far side of the building exploded, an ear-splitting _boom_ echoing for miles. He fell to his knees, his heart thumping hard. His chest heaved as he fought to breathe, and Bard was at his side in an instant.

“Hang in there, buddy,” he said urgently. “We know nothing yet – nothing. We have to get in there.”

Dazed, he shoved his friend aside and got back to his feet, slowly and unsteadily. Steps turned to a run as he closed the distance, tearing into the opened doors of the warehouse.

“Talia!” he roared. “Talia!”

The sound of creaking and snapping wood was deafening, as the fire from the explosion was steadily taking over what was left. His head whipped from his left to his right, panic and terror flooding through him and leaving him unable to think.

“Thran! I’m going up!” Thorin yelled, running past him and hurtling up a set of metal steps onto a mezz deck above him. His feet thundered across as he searched.

“Hey! I’ll go left, you go right!” Bard shouted, punching his arm and bringing him out of his stunned daze. “Go!”

Thranduil acted on instinct, searching every corner, every empty container he found. He flew from one abandoned office to the next, screaming Talia’s name.

Nothing.

The flames were spreading rapidly, the heat becoming too much for anyone to withstand. He came to a stop, panting hard for air. He refused to even consider the idea that she’d been in the blast zone.

“ _TALIA!”_ He roared so loud, he started to cough, leaning over to gasp air into his burning lungs.

A sound made his head flip up.

He screamed again, and again he heard it. Yelling as loud as he could, he followed the noise and burst into an area filled with fake designer goods. Flames licked up the walls and across the ceiling above him.

“Talia!”

She stood leaning against a wooden pillar, battered and bleeding. Her head hung low, and he wasn’t sure if she was conscious. A heavy chain like one used to lock gates bound her to the pillar, holding her weight up.

“Talia!” he shouted, swiftly crossing the floor towards her.

Her head lifted slowly, blood oozing from a cut next to her right eye. “Thranduil,” she whispered hoarsely. “Go. Get out of here.”

“No, I will _not_ fucking leave you,” he hissed, tugging at the thick chain around her. “Goddammit…”

She struggled to drag air in. “Listen to me…the whole building’s wired to blow,” she said, turning her head towards him. “Go.”

He turned his head, his ice blue eyes an inch from hers. “No. You are coming with me.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she shook her head. Her dry, cracked lips parted, but she couldn’t speak.

He pulled his Glock from his waistband, circling behind her. “Take a deep breath, baby,” he said, one arm around her chest supporting her. He pulled the trigger, and the gun went off with a bang loud enough to wake the dead. She screamed, both in fright and pain as her blood flowed back into her arms. He stuffed the gun into the back of his waistband under his shirt, catching her as she dropped and lifting her into his arms.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him as he dashed back the way he’d come, sections of roofing and panelling crashing down around them in pieces of blazing wreckage. Roars met her ears as she closed her eyes; sounds of Thorin and Bard yelling back and forth and the sounds of the building beginning to collapse. The roaring from the blaze drowned out everything as it burned out of control, the heat frying everything in its path.

Thranduil cleared the doorway and headed towards a pile of wrecked cars, dropping to his knees as the warehouse exploded. Pieces of debris shot into the air, thick clouds of smoke wafting up into the otherwise still sky. He threw his body over hers, protecting her as fragments rained down around them, some still alight.

“Thran! Talia!” Bard’s voice hollered.

He lifted his head groggily. “We’re ok!” he yelled. “Where’s Thorin?”

“Applying for extended goddamned fucking leave!” Thorin roared back.

He turned to look back down at Talia, who lay still in his arms, her eyes closed. Moving one hand to lift her hair away from her face, he swallowed. “Please don’t leave me now, little kitty,” he whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “I’m not leaving you,” she said, her voice rough. She slowly and painfully pushed herself into a sitting position, running her hands through her hair. Heaving deep breaths of air into her lungs, she looked at him. “Are you alright?”

He nodded. “I’m alright.”

After a few seconds she hoisted herself to her feet, her legs shaky. He rose beside her, concerned. Looking up at him, she clenched her teeth and slid her arms around his shoulders. He immediately wrapped both arms around her, kissing her hair as she leaned into him. Her face turned towards his neck and she inhaled, drawing his aroma deep into her being.

Her eyes flickered open, having closed them in pleasure at the scent of him. Gazing through the strands of his silky hair that swept over his shoulders and down his back, she squinted slightly.

She turned back a little, kissing the soft skin of his neck. A murmer left her as she slid her hands across his shoulders and down his chest, tracing the tensed muscles. Another kiss on his neck, and another.

And another.

“Talia?” he whispered, unsure what she was doing.

“I just wanna kiss you,” she whispered as her hands disappeared up under the hem of his shirt and slid over his stomach. “I wanna touch you…”

Her right hand wound around his waist, teasing the warm flesh under her fingertips, before closing around the cold handgrip of his Glock. Yanking it out of his waistband, she pulled him around to her side and raised the weapon. Before Thranduil could react, she’d pulled the trigger, firing off a single shot.

A shrill scream split the air as a rifle dropped from high up in the dense woodlands behind the burning building. Seconds later, a body dropped, landing heavily on the grass.

Thranduil looked down at her in astonishment, his mouth open. She didn’t look at him, but slid her left hand from around his waist, searching for his hand. Gripping it tightly, she took shaky steps towards the wooded area, leading him a little behind her.

Bard and Thorin hurtled across the gravel, having seen her make the shot, and the four of them stepped into the long grass. Several yards away, gargled, rasping breathing and moaning filtered over to them.

Thranduil had pulled level with her as she stopped a foot away from her target.

Azog lay on the grass, blood spurting from between the fingers of the hand he had clamped to the side of his neck. Fury flashed in his eyes as he glared up at her, and his mouth opened as he attempted to talk.

No words came out, only more gargled, spluttered noises. The noises of a dying man.

Bard and Thorin both had their guns trained on him, but she didn’t. She stared deep into his eyes, no emotion in hers as he snarled up at her.

Bard’s gaze went from Azog to Talia and back and forth several times.

She didn’t flinch. Thranduil stayed rock still beside her.

Azog’s mouth opened once more. “The devil will come for you,” he rasped with difficulty.

She stepped closer, leaning down over him, never breaking eye contact. “Look into my eyes,” she whispered. “I _am_ the devil.” One swift move booted his hand free from his neck, causing his arterial blood to spurt and pulse violently. She pressed the weight of one foot onto his arm, holding it firm to the grass below him.

His body shuddered as he struggled for air, and within a few seconds, he went still.

She eventually stepped back, staggering a little. A hushed silence had fallen, but she heard a loud thundering in her ears. The world around her tipped to one side as Thranduil gently lowered her to the grass, his arms under her shoulders.

“It’s over baby,” he whispered softly. “It’s over.”

Her eyes closed.


	22. Chapter 22

** CHAPTER TWENTY TWO **

****

Hell was breaking loose everywhere.

Dwalin had arrived with most of the squad, accompanied by police cars with sirens blaring, lights flashing, ambulances abandoned everywhere, armed cops running around, and several fire crews were on site.

Thranduil sat on his knees in the long grass with Talia unconscious in his arms. She hadn’t moved a fraction after collapsing.

Neither had Azog.

The crime scene unit had quickly taken photographs and his body had been dumped in the back of the coroner’s van. Nobody had treated the cadaver with much respect or dignity, given that he’d been responsible for the deaths of several of their own.

The fire crew dashed in all directions, caught up in their own organised routine of extinguishing the blaze that had completely taken over the warehouse. The smell of smoke was acrid, making everybody in the vicinity cough and splutter, and the heat was enough to drive back anyone not wearing protective clothing.

Bard crouched down at Thranduil’s side, his hand on his shoulder. “She’s going to be ok, Thran,” he said quietly. “It’s over. This whole sorry state of affairs is finished.”

He nodded numbly, cradling her tightly. “She needs medical attention,” he whispered.

His friend nodded, signalling for the medics to approach.

Thorin, Dwalin, and Bofur watched from a few yards away.

Fitting an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose, they gently eased her from his arms and settled her onto a stretcher, where they quickly checked her vital signs.

Thorin stepped forwards and bumped his arm against Thranduil’s. “Stay strong,” he said. “She’s going to be alright. I promise.”

Tearf-filled eyes looked down at him. “She has to be,” he replied in a broken whisper. “She has to be. I need her.”

“And she needs you,” Bard said. “Go with her in the ambulance. Stay with her.”

“I’m sending an escort with you guys,” Thorin told him. “Blues-and-twos all the way to the ER. You’ll be there in no time. Go.”

A gentle but firm push sent him in a daze towards the back of the ambulance, where a medic helped him inside.

“We’ll be at the hospital pretty quickly,” she assured him, fastening a seat belt around him as he seemed too stunned to do it himself. She patted his shoulder. “Just relax, if you can. Your lady’s in good hands.” With a reassuring smile, she stepped back to make room for the stretcher to be loaded and locked into position.

Still Talia hadn’t moved.

Thranduil looked over at Bard, Thorin, Dwalin, and Bofur, a helpless look in his eyes. The ambulance doors slammed closed.

*****

Talia tipped her head back and laughed heartily, as Bombur’s face turned red. Breaking into a coughing fit, Thranduil thumped between her shoulder blades, then slid his arm around her waist and pulled her back to lean against him.

“That should teach you,” Thorin smirked, downing the remainder of his bottle of beer. “Not _all_ screams are ones of terror, my friend.”

Thranduil chuckled, knowing all too well that if his neighbours called the cops every time Talia screamed, they’d more often than not have the door kicked in for the wrong reasons.

“I refuse to enter anywhere first after that,” the robust cop said, shaking his head. “That’s an image I have to live with for the rest of my days. God help me.”

“We’ve all crashed into a situation like that,” Bofur supplied. “Except my first time was two girls going hard at it. I’ve never been so mortified in my life!”

Another wave of laughter rippled round.

The atmosphere was cosy. The whole squad had descended on Thranduil’s apartment, only a day after the death of Azog. Talia had been released from hospital late that night, having been given the all-clear and with strict instructions from the doctors for Thranduil to keep an eye on her.

She’d been fine.

A little more tired than normal, but she expected that having had Azog knock the hell out of her. Thranduil had remained at her side constantly, and she took comfort from having him so close.

“Well guys, I hate to break this merry shindig, but I gotta make tracks,” Bard announced as he rose to his feet. “Thran, where do you keep the trash bags?”

Talia waved a hand. “Leave it. We’ll get them,” she said.

“Not a chance,” he retorted, disappearing into the kitchen and yanking open cupboard doors. “Aha.”

The others reluctantly stood, clearing away pizza boxes, empty beer bottles, and trying to make the place look tidy once more.

“Honestly, guys…we can see to this,” Thranduil said, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Nope. We gate-crashed, we made the mess, we tidy it,” Thorin replied. “Bombur, get your arse off that couch and put your back into it!”

The living space bustled as everybody moved this way and that, clearing the mountain of garbage and removing all waste.

“Right. We’re off,” Bard said, glancing round to make sure they hadn’t missed anything. He turned to the couple still seated on the arm of the couch, holding a hand out to Thranduil. “Take care of yourself man, and see you soon.”

Thranduil shook his hand. “Likewise,” he replied.

A quick kiss pressed against Talia’s cheek. “And you make sure he does everything for you,” he reminded her. “No more heroics, no swinging from the curtains. Just relax and chill out for a while.”

“I will,” she promised. “Thanks for coming over, guys.”

One by one, their friends filtered out, giving back-slaps and handshakes all round, and eventually the door closed, leaving the two alone.

Thranduil looked down as Talia twisted her head back to look up at him.

“Alone at last,” he murmered.

She smiled. “You ok?”

“Yes. You?”

She sighed, leaning back against him with a contended smile. “Yeah. I am.”

He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Once you’re in a place where you’re not in pain all the time, you and I are going to have a long talk about what you will and will not be doing,” he told her. “I don’t want you back on the force.”

She remained silent for a few moments. “But it’s where I belong,” she said.

“No, it isn’t,” he said. “I think that you’ve been through enough adventure and enough escapades to last two or three lifetimes. I much rather you safe and comfortable somewhere, as opposed to chasing cons around the streets, jumping out of moving cars, and shooting everything that moves.”

She snorted.

“I have a question,” he said suddenly.

She pulled back and turned, studying him. “Go for it.”

“You once said you’ve never missed a shot, never made a bad shoot,” he said.

“I haven’t.”

“So what happened with Azog?”

She smiled. “Exactly what I _wanted_ to happen,” she said. “I deliberately didn’t make that an instant drop shot. I wanted the bastard to suffer. I wanted him to know he was dying. Thranduil, he tried to kill both of us, more than once. He took the lives of seven cops. That doesn’t merit an easy end in my book. He got what he deserved.”

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Fair enough,” he said. “I always thought you’d take someone down with a single shot, clean and immediate.”

She shook her head. “Most of the time, I’d agree with you. But he was an exception. One I was willing to make. That shot was deliberate. I told you – I don’t fuck up. Ever.”

He trailed his fingers through her hair. “Shall we go through and get settled for the night?” His eyes lifted to hers. “You look tired, little kitty.”

“I am,” she admitted. “I can’t seem to shake it off this last week or so.”

“Come on,” he said, offering his hand. “We can snuggle up and watch a movie or something. Listen to music. Or just talk.”

“That sounds a better option than sitting here,” she agreed, sliding forwards off the arm of the couch. “I can almost feel the bed calling me. It’s so nice to be back in our own space again, not having to crash here, there and everywhere.”

“I missed the place,” he said, walking behind her with his free hand on her lower back. “I didn’t realise just how much until I couldn’t get in it, but I did miss it.”

“Me too,” she said. “Two seconds babe, let me get into my pyjammies.”

He smiled as she wandered into the bathroom.

By the time she reappeared, he’d stripped down to his boxers and was already in bed, flicking through the tv channels. “I don’t think there’s anything really interesting on,” he said, glancing up at her.

“Nothing changes then,” she retorted. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she rubbed lotion onto her hands. “We could always watch a DVD.”

Ice blue eyes held hers. “Or we could talk,” he said softly, flipping back the quilt and patting the space beside him.

She smiled, sliding over and settling next to him. He leaned over her and slid his arm underneath her shoulders, gazing into her eyes. Lowering his head, he gently rubbed his nose against hers a few times, finally tilting his head and brushing his soft lips against hers. His warm flesh rubbed erotically over hers, encouraging her to part her lips to deepen the kiss.

Her fingers tangled in his long hair as she tightened the connection between them, shifting her body so she could lift her left leg over his thighs. His hips settled snugly into the space she’d created, pressing against her. His hair trailed down over her upper arms, setting little blazes of fire alight over her flesh in responsive awareness. She purred softly in the back of her throat, the sound merging into the kiss.

He moved a little, nuzzling her cheek as he kissed his way towards her ear, nipping gently at her skin and caressing with his tongue.

He hoisted his weight up onto his elbows and lifted himself up slightly, gazing down into her eyes. They sparkled with passion as she gazed back.

“You left something in your drawer at Thorin’s,” he said, his voice flowing over her like rich, warm velvet.

She blinked, and he could see the shock register. “Shit..! I forgot about that,” she gasped, then frowned. “You found it?”

He nodded, lifting a hand and tracing the pad of his index finger down her cheek. “Yes.”

She swallowed. “I didn’t look.”

His eyes moved from the movement of his finger to hers, his surprise evident. “You didn’t?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

She hesitated. “I was scared to,” she whispered.

His eyes softened, and he lowered his head to brush his mouth ever so lightly over hers. “You’re pregnant, little kitty,” he whispered back. “You’re having my baby.”

A faint tremor shuddered through her, enough for him to feel.

“How do you feel about that?” she asked him.

He smiled, touching soft kisses onto her mouth. “I’m absolutely delighted,” he answered. More kisses. “Thrilled beyond words.” Even more kisses. “I couldn’t be happier.” Soft touches of his mouth brushed hers like butterfly wings in between his words. “Are you happy?”

She laughed tearfully, nodding. “Yes…I am,” she said. “I was scared in case-“

He cut her off by sliding both arms under her shoulders and crushing his mouth to hers in a deep, sensual kiss. “There is no reason to be scared,” he told her. “I’m going to be at your side day and night, and we’re going to bring this baby into a secure, loving family. You’re going to be a great mother, Talia, and a great wife.”

She blinked, unable to tear her gaze away from him. “I thought you might not be happy,” she said quietly. “We’ve never talked about having kids.”

One bare shoulder shrugged under her hand. “We don’t have to. We’re adults, we know how they’re made,” he told her. “We don’t need a labelled diagram. We love each other, and we’ll love this child with everything that we have.” Blue eyes held hers. “You need to have faith in yourself, little kitty.”

His term of endearment touched her soul, as it always did whenever he said it. “You seem to give me that faith when I don’t have it,” she said.

He smiled again, releasing his hold on her and sliding down the bed, taking the quilt with him. He stopped part way down, lifting the edge of her top. She watched him as he placed a tender kiss on her abdomen, and settled his hand over the area.

“Our baby sleeps here,” he whispered. “Safe and sound, growing every day.” Ice blue eyes looked back to her, glowing with love. “I love you both, so much.”

She bit her lip to hold back the tears she could feel welling up. “We love you too,” she whispered. She held her arms out, and he resumed his former position, pulling her onto her side and holding her close as he rested his head against hers.

The thought went through his mind that it had been the right thing to do that Friday night months ago, when he’d decided to get out of his car and help her start hers.

He smiled.

He was contented.


End file.
